Kiara Pride-Lander: Book 5
by Kimberly Joan Amethyst
Summary: The fifth book in my Kiara Pride-Lander series. Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing except my own characters. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Kiara Pride-Lander:**

 **and the Order of the Centaur**

 **By K.J. Amethyst**

 **Carol Stingered**

 **KIARA**

Hello, my fellow readers! Here we are, once again, in another segment of my story, and boy, does this one get really messed up: the rule book is thrown out the window, we get a new crazy Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, there are a lot more secrets being thrown around, a rebellion is beginning, I learn a lot about my past, and get some crazy dreams including Lady Zira, and there's a few meetings between the Boy Who Lived and myself in here too, but all that's still to come. For now, though, let me begin with my summer holidays: August twelfth, 2008, to be precise, where I'm sitting in my room, watching the news and worrying.

Now, I know some of you are wondering what I am doing watching the news, in the middle of a summer heatwave? To answer that, I must say to you, dear readers, that you must remember that it's been over a month since I broke up for the holidays at the time when this happened, and that it was not long after Georgia Diggs had died, and Lady Zira had come back, and Lady Zira coming back was exactly why I was watching the news, so that I could see if any odd or mysterious disappearances or deaths were occurring up and down the country. My aunt and uncle - my aunt in particular, for I'm sure my uncle was secretly fine with it - kept on making comments about me watching the news, saying that it wasn't normal for a girl like me to be watching the news a lot (well, a lot about me isn't exactly what anyone would call "normal" now, is it?). The reason I know about these remarks isn't because Grandmother Sarabi told me about them, oh no; it's because Aunt Mavuto and Uncle Frank spent quite a lot of time at my grandmothers' cottage, and that whenever my aunt heard me watching the news through my bedroom door, she would always come crashing through the door, scold me for watching such things at my age, tell me I should be outside like a normal kid, walk out and slam the door behind her; and because of that, I always kept the volume low whenever I watched the news, because I didn't know who would be outside my bedroom door. I didn't take much notice of her, though; the days when I would have been affected by my aunt's cold chidings had long since gone by the time I was fifteen. If Grandmother Sarabi had been there, though, things would have been quite different - but she wasn't. I'll tell you why she wasn't there in a little while, and where she was ... well, we'll get to that later.

I bent my head quickly as I saw Mr Figgs, a batty cat-loving old man from down the road, amble slowly past. He was frowning and muttering to himself. I was very pleased I was indoors, as Mr Figgs had taken to asking me round to tea whenever he met me in the street. He vanished from my sight, and as soon as he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief, sat up straight on my bed and turned to face the television again.

Anyhoo, as I listened to the last story (what it was, I can't remember, but I know that it wasn't important) I let out a long, slow breath and stared out of my open window at the sky. Each day over that summer had been the same: the tension, the expectation, the temporary relief, and then mounting tension again ... and always, the question that grew more insistent all the time in my mind back then, was _why_ had nothing happened yet?

There was nothing else worth hearing, so I turned off the television, and as I did so, several things happened at once.

A loud, echoing _crack_ broke the sleepy silence like a gunshot; a cat streaked out from behind a bush in the garden and flew out of sight; I cracked my head against the window-sill in shock, before I sat upright again, clenching my forehead in pain, and turned to grab my wand, for I thought that was the signal I had been waiting for. Once I had grabbed my wand from my bedside table, I leant over the window-sill with my wand held out before me, checking to see if anyone had come, but the garden was empty. As I did this, Grandmother Sarafina came bursting into my room, panicking, I'm sure, at the noise she had just heard.

"Kiara! Are you all right, dear?" Grandmother Sarabi asked, severely shaken, from the loud _crack_ she had heard as well as I had.

"I'm fine, Grandmother," I said absent-mindedly, as I kept my attention focused on the garden, looking for a sign of whoever made that _crack_ happen.

I felt Grandmother Sarafina's concern as she walked over to my bed, pulled me back down slowly, and said as she did so, "Kiara, child, what on Earth are you doing with your wand out of the window - and holding your wand? Oh, Kiara, you know how dangerous that is! What if someone saw you? What would Sarabi say - ?"

"Yeah, well, Sarabi isn't here, is she, Grandmother Sarafina?" I asked her snarkily, which I instantly regretted by the look of incredulous astonishment on her face. I then sighed, and said, "I'm sorry, Grandmother. I didn't mean to say that to you. It's just - "

"It's all right, my darling," Grandmother Sarafina said. Breathing a sigh of relief, she sat next to me on my bed, put her arm around me, held me close and said, "You're frustrated with being here alone, and getting no information from your friends. It's natural for you to feel angry, Kiara. Now," she then said, leaning back a little and looking at me in the eyes, "are you going to tell me _why_ you were leaning out of the window just now, hm?"

"I don't know," I sighed. "It's just that ... I thought that crack might have something to do with Zira, so I just ..." I sighed again and shook my head. After a few moment's silence, I turned to Grandmother Sarafina again and said, "So, where are Aunt Mavuto and Uncle Frank tonight? I thought they were coming over?"

"Oh, they are," Grandmother Sarafina said. "They're just at a restaurant, having a romantic meal together, seeing as Carol is "apparently" spending dinner at a friend's house - "

I snorted and said, "They're buying it? Seriously, Grandmother, I don't think Carol's said an honest word in her life." The reason I said this is because during that Summer, the Smiths had swallowed all of Carol's dim-witted lies about having tea with a different member of her gang every night of those summer holidays. Grandmother Sarafina and I knew perfectly well that Carol had not been to tea anywhere; she and her gang used to spend every evening vandalising the play park, drinking and smoking, on street corners and throwing stones at passing cars and children. I had seen them at it during my evening wanderings around the village; I had spent most of those holidays wandering the streets, and scavenging newspapers from bins along the way.

"I know, my darling, but we both know what they're like," Grandmother Sarafina said gently. She then patted my shoulder gently and said, "Why don't you go take a walk? It's a lovely evening, and I'm sure you'll like the fresh air. Besides, a walk might do you some good, you know? Clear your head a bit. Just make sure you're back here with Carol before ten when Frank and Mavuto get here, OK? Oh, and make sure you wear a jacket. I know it's warm out now, but you never know, it might get chilly later." (Boy, was she right.)

So I kissed her cheek, put on my boots, grabbed my jacket, got off my bed, headed downstairs and out the door, but instead of turning to where everything was beautiful, lush and green, I turned towards the village, and started to make my way towards the play park.

Ah, well, at least I'm not in trouble for listening to the news tonight, I thought, as I walked down the lane. I probably would have been the next day, too, if - well, we'll get to that in a bit.

Anyhoo, my mind then turned to the cracking noise that I had heard. I was sure it had been made by someone Apparating or Disapparating. It was exactly the sound Dokey the house-elf made when she vanished into thin air. I wondered if it were possible that Dokey was in my village once again, and whether or not it was she who was following me at that precise moment. As that thought hit me, I wheeled around and stared back towards my grandmothers' cottage, but it appeared to be completely deserted, and I was sure that Dokey did not know how to become invisible.

I walked on, hardly aware of the route I took, for I had ponded those streets so often that summer that my feet carried me to my favourite haunts automatically. Every few steps I glanced back over my shoulder. Someone magical had been near me as I looked out of my window, I was sure of it. I wondered why they hadn't spoken or made contact with me, and where were they hiding at that moment?

And then, as my feeling of frustration peaked, my certainty leaked away.

I thought that perhaps it hadn't been a magical sound after all; that perhaps I was so desperate for tiniest sign of contact from the world to which I belonged that I was simply overreacting to perfectly ordinary noises. I then thought that I must have mistaken the sound of someone Apparating or Disapparating, for the sound of a branch breaking.

I then felt a dull, sinking sensation in my stomach and before I knew it the feeling of hopelessness that had plagued me throughout that summer rolled over me once again.

I thought that the next morning I would be awoken by the alarm at five o'clock so I could pay the owl that delivered the _Daily Squabbler_ \- but then I wondered whether there was any point continuing to take it? I merely glanced at the front page before I threw it aside in those days; when the idiots who ran the paper finally realised that Zira had returned would be headline news, and that was the only kind I cared about in those days.

I hoped that if I was lucky I would have some owls - or calls - from my best friends Chris, Sian and Chrissie, though any expectation I'd had that their letters would bring me news had been dashed.

 _We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously ... We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray ... We're quite busy, but I can't give you details here ... There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you ... We know you're frustrated about being left in the dark, but it won't be for much longer ... I know it's tough for you not being with us, but just hold on ..._

But at that moment in time it was a matter of when they were going to see me that I was concerned about. Nobody seemed too bothered with a precise date. Sian had scribbled _I expect we'll be seeing you quite soon_ inside my birthday card, but all I kept thinking was how soon was soon? As far as I could tell from the vague hints in their letters, Chris, Sian and Chrissie were in the same place, presumably Dawson Manor. I couldn't bear to think of the three of them having fun at Dawson Manor without me. In fact, I was so angry with them that I had thrown away, unopened, the three boxes of The Sugarshack's chocolates they'd sent me for my birthday. Grandmother Sarafina's birthday meal had been delightful that night, so I didn't regret my actions too much.

And then I started to think about what Chris, Sian and Chrissie had been busy with, and why I wasn't busy with them? I had proven myself capable of handling much more than them, hadn't I? I then wondered whether they had forgotten what I had done. After all, I had entered that graveyard and watched Georgia being murdered, and it was me who had been tied to that headstone and nearly killed.

 _Don't think about that_ , I told myself sternly for the hundredth time that summer. It was bad enough that I kept revisiting the graveyard in my nightmares during those dark days without having to dwell on it in my waking moments, too.

I turned a corner, and as I did so, a few people greeted me, and I them. I was quite a favourite in the neighbourhood. My clothes fit me all right, and my hair was tied back most days. My wizarding friends, on the other hand, were split into three groups: the ones who believed me, who would always give a kind word to me as I passed, and I them; the ones who were unsure if they believed me or not, who would nod civilly at me, and I them; and then there were those who believed the media and not me, who thought that I was crazy and avoided me, as I avoided them. The people who didn't believe me were fools and were not worth the trouble, so I just let them be.

As I walked on, my mind then slipped to thinking of my parents and Grandmother Sarabi. The reason why she wasn't with me and Grandmother Sarafina that summer was because late one night, sometime during my second week of those holidays, she came into my room and told me she had been called somewhere by Crighton. She couldn't tell me where she was going, and nor could she tell me much, but she did tell me that she would call me every night to see how things were going.

"Can't I go with you?" I said, hurt and upset that we were going to be separated for some time, and that Crighton didn't trust me.

"I know it's hard, sweetie," she told me gently, "but I promise you that you will come to us soon. But for now, you must be strong for me. Can you do that?" She looked at me steadily for a moment, as I thought about what she said. True, I didn't like that she was leaving me for whatever length of time it was, but I knew that it had to be important, otherwise she wouldn't have left in the middle of the night. So I nodded and she hugged me tight, telling me that she loved me, before she left my room, closing the door softly behind her. I then watched her get in her car and drive away, and even though I knew Grandmother Sarafina was still in the house, I felt more alone than ever.

Still, it wasn't all bad. She called me every night, just like she promised. My friends, though, I just ignored, for if they weren't going to tell me anything, then I wasn't going to bother speaking to them. True, Grandmother Sarabi didn't tell me anything, either, but she let me get my anger out when I had to, so that wasn't bad. She also told me that she was angry at Crighton for how she was treating me, which I was very happy to hear, and knowing that there were people out there who cared about me made me happy, too, which brings me back to my parents.

My father, Simba, and my mother, Nala, also seemed to understand what I was feeling. Admittedly, their letters were just as empty of proper news as Chris, Sian and Chrissie's were, but at least theirs contained words of caution and consolation instead of tantalising hints: _We know this must be frustrating for you ... Keep your nose clean and everything will be OK ... Be careful and don't do anything rash ..._

Well, I thought, as I crossed one street, turned into another and turned towards the darkening play park, I had (by and large) done as my parents had advised. I had at least resisted the temptation to tie my trunk to my broomstick and set off for Dawson Manor by myself. In fact, I thought my behaviour had been very good considering how frustrated and angry I felt at being stuck at my grandmothers' place so long, reduced to turning the volume on my television low whenever my aunt and uncle were around, just so I hoped to hear something that might have pointed to what Lady Zira could have been doing. Nevertheless, I found it quite galling to be told not to be rash by the people who had served twelve years in the wizard prison, Azkaban, escaped, attempted to commit the murders they had been convicted for in the first place, then gone on the run with a stolen Hippogriff, even if the people in question were my parents.

I vaulted over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass. the park was as empty as the surrounding streets. When I reached the swings, I sank on to the one that Carol had not managed to break at the time, coiled one arm around the chain and stared moodily at the ground. I thought I would've had to keep the volume pretty low in order to listen to the television in my room the next night. Until then, I had nothing to look forward to but another restless, disturbing night, because even when I escaped the nightmares about Georgia I had unsettling dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead-ends and locked doors, which I supposed had something to do with the trapped feelings I had when I was awake at the time. In those days, the old scar on my forehead would often prickle uncomfortably, but I did not fool myself that Chris or Sian or Chrissie or my parents or Grandmother Sarabi would find that interesting any more. In the past (before Zira came back, I mean), my scar hurting had warned that Zira was getting stronger again, but seeing was back they would probably have reminded me that its regular irritation was only to be expected ... nothing to worry about ... old news ...

The injustice of it all welled up inside me so that I wanted to yell with fury. If it hadn't been for me, nobody would even have known that Zira was back! And my reward was to be stuck in the South of Wales for four solid weeks, completely cut off from the magical world, reduced to listening to the news with the volume turned down low, just so I could hear nothing of any importance to me whatsoever! How could Crighton have forgotten me so easily? Why had Chris, Sian and Chrissie got together without inviting me, too? These questions, as well as how long was I supposed to endure my parents telling me to sit tight and be a good girl, or resist the temptation to write to the stupid _Daily Squabbler_ and point out that Zira had returned, were going round my head at that moment, which made my insides writhe with anger as a sultry, velvety night fell around me, the air full of smell of warm, dry grass, and the only sound was that of the low grumble of the odd car on the road beyond the park railings.

I did not know how long I had sat on the swing before the sound of voices interrupted my dark musings and I looked up. The streetlamps from the surrounding roads were casting a misty glow strong enough to silhouette a group of people making their way across the park. One of them sang a loud, crude song. The others were laughing. A soft ticking noise came from several expensive racing bikes that they were wheeling along.

I knew who those people were. The figure in front was unmistakeably my cousin, Carol Smith, wending her way home, and accompanied by her faithful gang.

Since I had last wrote about her, Carol had put on a bit of weight - not a lot to make her look chubby, but enough to put some fat under her skin. She also worked out, so that all that fat turned to muscle. Aunt Mavuto used to delightfully tell anyone who would listen that Carol had become the Women's Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Champion of the Southwest. "I'm just glad to see that her exercise is going to good use," Aunt Mavuto said. Carol's boxing had made her even more formidable than she had seemed to me when we were younger, and Carol had tried to use me as her first punch bag. I was not remotely afraid of my cousin, but I still didn't think that Carol learning to punch harder and more accurately was cause for celebration. Neighbouring children all around were terrified of her - even those children whose parents were friends of Aunt Mavuto's were more terrified of Carol than they were of me, "that Pride-Lander girl" as they called me, for they had been warned that I was a very dangerous individual, and attended some school or other for criminal girls, or something like that.

I watched the dark figures crossing the grass, and as they did so, I wondered who they had been beating up that night. _Look round_ , I found myself thinking as I watched them. _Come on ... look round ... I'm sitting here all alone ... come and have a go ..._

If Carol and her friends had seen me sitting there, they would've been sure to make a beeline for me, and I wondered what Carol would have done if that had happened. She wouldn't have wanted to lose face in front of her gang, but she would have been terrified of provoking me ... I thought it would have been really fun to watch Carol's dilemma, to taunt her, watch her, with her powerless to respond ... and if any of the others tried to hit me, I was ready - I had my wand. Let them try ... I'd have loved to have ventured some of my frustration on Carol and her gang, so that I could have had the satisfaction of treating her the way she had treated me when we were younger (I was in a very dark place in those days, so please don't judge me here).

But they didn't turn around; they didn't see me, they were almost at the railings. I mastered the impulse to call after them ... seeking a fight was not a smart move ... I could not use magic ... if I had done, I would have risked expulsion again ...

The voices of Carol's gang died away; they were out of sight, they were almost on the street that would take me in the direction back to my grandmothers' cottage.

 _There you go, Mother_ , I thought dully. _Nothing rash. Kept my nose clean. Exactly the opposite of what you'd have done_ (and I say my mother here, because my father would ask first, shoot later).

I got to my feet and stretched. I knew that Aunt Mavuto and Uncle Frank would not be home from their romantic evening out for a few hours yet, but I didn't want to stay out too late, for seeing as Carol is their "special little girl" who can do no wrong in their eyes, whatever time she came home was fine. I, on the other hand ... if I turned up one second later than Carol, then I was certain to get a yelling from my aunt. So I stifled a yawn, and with a scowl still etched on my face, I set off towards the park gate.

Whatever the street was that I was in had large square houses, with gardens that were small, and split down the middle because of the paved walk to each house, but the lawns on either side of these paved walkways were well manicured, and they were all owned by families, the father of which would often turn out to be a large square owner, and every now and then a people-carrier would show up. I preferred the village like this at night, when the curtained windows made patches of jewel-bright colour in the darkness, and I ran no danger of the glares and stares that I would get from some people. Anyhoo, I walked quickly, so that when I was halfway up this street to home, I saw Carol and her gang come into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance to the street which led to my grandmothers' place. I stepped into the shadows of a large cedar tree and waited.

" ... squealed like a pig, didn't she?" Mal was saying, to stupid guffaws from the others.

"Nice right hook, C-Girl," said Petra.

"Same time tomorrow?" said Carol.

"Round at my place, my parents will be out," said Geraldine.

"See you then," said Carol.

"Bye, Carol!"

"See ya, C-Girl!"

I waited for the rest of the gang to move on before I set off again. When their voices had faded once more I headed around the corner into the street that led to home, and by walking very quickly I soon came within hailing distance of Carol, who was strolling along at ease, humming tunelessly.

"Hey, C-Girl!"

Carol turned.

"Oh," she grunted. "It's you!"

"How long have you been called "C-Girl", then?" I said.

"Shut it," snarled Carol, turning away.

"Cool name," I said, grinning, as I fell into step beside my cousin. "But you'll always be called "Carol Bear" to me."

"I said, SHUT IT!" said Carol, whose thin hands had curled into fists.

"Don't the girls know what your mum calls you? Sorry, it's just that Grandmother Sarafina talks, you know."

"Shut your face."

"You don't tell your mum to shut your face. "What about "Petal" and "Cream Cake", can I use them then?"

Carol said nothing. The effort of keeping herself from hitting me seemed to demand all her self-control.

"So, who've you been beating up tonight?" I said, my grin fading. "Another ten-year-old? I know you did Maxine Eveson two nights ago - "

"She was asking for it," snarled Carol.

"Oh yeah?"

"She cheeked me."

"Yeah? Did she say you look like a thin sausage that's grown arms, legs and a head? Cause that's not cheek, C-Girl, that's true."

A muscle was twitching in Carol's temple. It gave me enormous satisfaction to know how furious I made Carol feel; I felt as though I had siphoned off my own frustration into my cousin, the only outlet I had (well, apart from speaking to Grandmother Sarabi on the phone, that is).

We then turned right down a narrow alleyway that led to the street that led to home. It was empty and much darker than the streets it linked because there were no streetlamps. Our footsteps were muffled between garage walls on one side and a high fence on the other.

Think you're a big woman carrying that thing around, don't you?" Carol said after a few seconds.

"What thing?"

"That - that thing you are hiding.

I grinned again.

"Not as stupid as you look, are you, C-Girl? But I s'pose, if you were, you wouldn't be able to walk and talk at the same time."

I pulled out my wand. I saw Carol look sideways at it.

"You're not allowed," Carol said at once. "I know you're not. "You'd get expelled from that freak school you go to."

"How d'you know they haven't changed the rules, C-Girl?"

"They haven't," said Carol, though she didn't sound completely convinced.

I laughed softly.

"You haven't got the guts to take me on without that thing, have you?" Carol snarled.

"Whereas you just need four mates behind you before you can beat up a ten-year-old. You know that boxing title you keep banging on about? How old was your opponent? Seven? Eight?"

"She was sixteen, for your information," snarled Carol, "and she was out cold for thirty minutes after I'd finished with her and she was twice as heavy as you. You just wait till I tell Mum that you had your thing out - "

"Running to Mummy now, are you? Is her ickle boxing champion afraid of nasty Kiara's wand?"

"Not this brave at night, are you?" sneered Carol.

"This _is_ night, Carol Bear. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this."

"I mean when you're in bed!" Carol snarled.

She had stopped walking. I stopped too, staring at my cousin. From the little I saw of Carol's face, she wore a strangely triumphant look.

"What d'you mean, I'm not brave when I'm in bed?" I said, completely nonplussed. "What am I supposed to be frightened of, pillows or something?"

"Grandmother Sarafina talks to us too, you know," said Carol breathlessly, "and I heard her tell Mum that she heard you in bed, moaning last night."

"What d'you mean?" I said again, but there was a cold, plunging sensation in my stomach. I had revisited the graveyard in my dreams the night before.

Carol gave a harsh bark of laughter, then adopted a high-pitched whimpering voice.

" "Don't kill Georgia! Don't kill Georgia! Who's Georgia - your girlfriend?"

"I - you're lying," I said automatically. But my mouth had gone dry. I knew Carol wasn't lying - how else would she have known about Georgia?

" "Mum! Help me, Mum! She's going to kill me, Mum! Boo hoo!" "

"Shut up," I said quietly. "Shut up, Carol, I'm warning you!"

" "Come and help me, Mum! Daddy, come and help me! She's killed Georgia! Mum, help me! She's going to - " _Don't you point that thing at me!_ "

Carol backed into the wall. I had my wand pointed directly at Carol's heart. I could feel the hatred of fourteen years of Carol pounding in my veins at that moment - I would've given anything to strike Carol at that point; to jinx her so thoroughly that she'd have to crawl home like an insect, struck dumb, sprouting feelers ...

"Don't you ever talk about that again," I snarled. "Do you understand me?"

"Point that thing somewhere else!"

"I said, _do you understand me_?"

 _"Point it somewhere else!"_

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM - "

Carol then gave an odd, shuddering gasp, as though she had been doused in icy water.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch black and lightless - the stars, the moon, the musty streetlamps at either end of the valley had vanished. the distant rumble of an odd car and the whisper of the trees had gone. The balmy evening air was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. We were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding us.

For a split second, I thought I had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that I had been resisting as hard as I could - then my reason caught up with my senses - I didn't have the power to turn off the stars. I turned my head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on my eyes like a weightless veil.

Carol's terrified voice broke in my ear.

"W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see" I've gone b-blind! I - "

"I said, shut up!"

I stood stock still, turning my sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense I was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up my arms and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up - I opened my eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

It was impossible ... they couldn't have been there ... not in that part of the country ... I strained my ears ... I knew that I would hear them before I saw them ...

"I'll t-tell Mum!" Carol whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do - ?"

"Will you shut up?" I hissed. "I'm trying to lis - "

But I fell silent, for I had just heard the thing I had been dreading.

There was something in the alleyway apart from ourselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths that clashed well with their deadly, droning, buzzing wings. I felt a horrible jolt of dread as I stood trembling in the freezing air.

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Carol, shut - "

WHAM!

A fist made contact with the side of my head, which lifted me off my feet. Small white lights popped in front of my eyes. For the second time that night, I felt as though my head had been cleaved in two; next moment, I landed hard on the ground and my wand had flown out of my hand.

"You moron, Carol!" I yelled; my eyes were watering with pain as I scrambled to my hands and knees, feeling around frantically in the darkness. I heard Carol blundering away, before she hit the alley fence, stumbling.

"CAROL, YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

There was a horrible shriek and Carol's footsteps stopped. At the same moment, I felt a creeping chill come from behind me, that could mean only one thing: there was more than one.

"CAROL, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!" I muttered frantically, as my hands flew over the ground like spiders. "Where's - wand - come on - _lumos_!"

I said the spell automatically, desperate for light to help me in my search - and to my disbelieving relief, light flared inches from my right hand - the wand tip had ignited. I snatched it up, scrambled to my feet and turned around.

When I saw what was coming for me, I felt my stomach left me.

A towering, hooded figure glided slowly towards me, hovering over the grounds, no feet or face visible beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came. In fact, the only thing that was visible in the centre of its face was a giant, terrifying blood-red eye, with a black slit down the middle for a pupil; and this eyes was focused on only one thing - me.

I stumbled backwards, and raised my wand.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery wisp of vapour shot from the tip of my wand and the Stinger slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly; I tripped over my own feet as I retreated further down the alley as the Stinger bore down upon me, and panic fogged my brain - _concentrate_ -

A pair of grey, slimy, scabbed hands slid from inside the Stinger's robes as it reached for me. A rushing noise filled my ears.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_

My voice sounded dim and distant in my ears. Another wisp of silvery smoke, feebler than the last, drifted from my wand - I felt that I couldn't do it, that I couldn't do the spell.

I heard laughter inside my head, shrill, high-pitched laughter ... I smelt the Stinger's putrid, death-cold breath filling my lungs, drowning me - _think ... something happy ..._

But there was no happiness in me at that moment ... the Stinger's icy fingers closed on my throat - the high-pitched laughter grew louder and louder, and a voice spoke in my head: _"Bow to death, Kiara ... it might even be painless ... I would not know ... I have never died ..."_

I feared then that I would never see Chris, Sian, Chrissie, my parents or Grandmother Sarabi again -

And then their faces burst clearly into my mind as I fought for breath.

 _"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

An enormous silver lioness burst from the tip of my wand, and its paws caught the Stinger in the place where the heart should have been; it was thrown backwards, weightless as darkness, and as the lioness ran, the Stinger swooped away, bat-like and defeated.

"THIS WAY!" I shouted at the lioness. I wheeled around, and sprinted down the alleyway, holding my lit wand aloft. "CAROL! CAROL!"

I had run barely a dozen steps when I reached them; Carol was curled up on the ground, her arms clamped over her face. A second Stinger crouched low over her, gripping her wrists in its slimy hands, prising them slowly, almost lovingly apart, lowering its head upon Carol's face as though about to suck her.

"GET IT!" I bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound, the silver lioness I had conjured went running past me. The Stinger's face was barely an inch from Carol's when the silver paws caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness; the lioness ran to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into silver mist.

Moon, stars and streetlamps burst back into life, as a warm breeze swept the alleyway, trees rustled in the neighbouring gardens, and the mundane rumble of an odd car rumbled again, as if nothing had ever happened. I stood quite still whilst my senses, which were vibrating, were trying to adjust themselves after the abrupt turn back to normality. After a moment, I became aware that my T-shirt was sticking to me, as was my jacked; I was drenched in sweat.

i couldn't believe what had just happened. Stingers, _there_ , in that part of the country? You can imagine my shock, I'm sure.

Anyhoo, Carol was curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. I took my jacket off, hurried over to her and bent down to see whether she was in a fit enough state to stand up, but then I heard loud, running footsteps behind me. I instinctively raised my wand again, as I spun on my heel to face the newcomer.

Mr Figgs, our batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. His grizzled grey hair was on end, a clanking plastic shopping bag was swinging from his left hand and his feet were halfway out of his tartan carpet slippers. I made to stow my wand hurriedly out of sight, but -

"Don't put it away, idiot girl!" he shrieked. "What if there are more of them around? Oh, I'm going to _kill_ Mona Fetch!"

 **AN: So, here is the first chapter for book 5. I'm sorry this has taken a little longer than I had hoped to publish, but I had some problems with my internet connection again - so if I don't update when I say I'm meant to, you all know why. I will be updating Wednesdays or Thursdays (or both, if it's a split chapter) and Sundays, so I'll see you in a few days. Oh, and if you don't like, then don't read. Simple as. Negative criticism WILL BE AVOIDED!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **A Peck of Owls**

 **KIARA**

"What?" I said blankly.

"She left!" said Mr Figgs, wringing his hands. "Went to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told her I'd flay her alive if she left, and now look! It's just lucky I put Mrs Tibbs on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! Hurry now, we've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will _kill_ her!"

"But - " the revelation that my batty old cat-obsessed neighbour knew what Stingers were was almost as big a shock to me as meeting two of them down the alleyway. "You're - you're a _wizard_?"

"I'm a Squib, as Mona knows full well, so how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off Stingers? She left you completely without cover when I'd _warned_ her - "

"This Mona has been following me? Hang on - it was _her_! She Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, _yes_ , but luckily I'd stationed Mrs Tibbs in a nearby bush just in case, and Mrs Tibbs came and warned me, but by the time I got to your house you'd gone - and now - oh, _what's_ Crighton going to say? You!" he shrieked at Carol, who was still supine on the alley floor. "Get your flat bottom off the ground, quick!"

"You know Crighton?" I said, staring at him.

"Of course I know Crighton, who doesn't know Crighton? But come on - I'll be no help if they come back, I've never so much as Transfigured a teabag."

He stooped down, seized one of Carol's long, muscly arms in his wizened hands and tugged.

"Get up, you useless lump, get _up_!"

But Carol either could not or would not move. She remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced. Her mouth was shut very tightly.

"I'll do it." I took hold of Carol's arm and heaved. With enormous effort I managed to hoist her to her feet. Carol seemed to be on the point of fainting. Her small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading her face; the moment I let go of her she swayed dangerously.

"Hurry up!" said Mr Figgs hysterically.

I pulled one of Carol's muscly arms around my shoulders and dragged her towards the road, sagging slightly under her weight. Mr Figgs tottered along in front of us, peering anxiously around the corner.

"Keep your wand out," he told me, as we entered the road that led to my grandmothers' place. "Never mind the Statue of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay anyway, we might as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. Talk about the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery ... this was _exactly_ what Crighton was afraid of - what's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mrs Peter's ... don't put your wand away, girl, don't I keep telling you I'm no use?"

It was no easy task for me to hold a wand steady and haul Carol along at the same time, but somehow I did it. I gave my cousin an impatient dig in the ribs, just to see if she could move just a little, but Carol seemed to have lost all desire for independent movement. She was slumped on my shoulder, her small feet dragging along the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me you're a Squib, Mr Figgs?" I asked, panting with the effort to keep walking. "All those times I came round your house - why didn't you say anything?"

"Crighton's orders. I was to keep an eye on you when your grandmothers weren't around but not say anything, you were so young, you know. You had a rather easy time with me, Kiara, which I'm glad of - and I wouldn't have had it any other way, Kiara - for your grandmothers would have known if I was mistreating you ... but oh my word," he said tragically, wringing his hands once more, "when Crighton hears about this - how could Mona have left, she was supposed to be on duty until midnight - _where is she_? How am I going to tell Crighton what's happened? I can't Apparate."

"I've got an owl, you can borrow him," I groaned, whilst wondering whether my spine was going to snap under Carol's weight; even though Carol was slightly shorter than myself, her muscles did make her very heavy.

"Kiara, you don't understand! Crighton will need to act as quickly as possible, the Ministry have their own ways of detecting underage magic, they'll know already, you mark my words."

"But I was getting rid of Stingers, I had to use magic - they're going to be more worried about what Stingers are doing floating around in our part of the country, surely?"

"Oh, my dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid - MONA FETCH, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

There was a loud _crack_ and a strong smell of drink mingled with stale tobacco filled the air as a squat, tatty-haired woman in a tatty over coat materialised right in front of us. She had short, bandy legs, long straggly ginger hair and bloodshot, baggy eyes that gave her the doleful look of a basset hound. She was also clutching a silvery bundle that I recognised at once as an Invisibility Cloak.

"S'up, Figgsy?" she said, staring from Mr Figgs to me to Carol. "What 'appened to staying undercover?"

"I'll give you _undercover_!" cried Mr Figgs. " _Stingers_ , you useless, stinking thief!"

"Stingers?" repeated Mona, aghast. "Stingers, 'ere?"

"Yes, here, you worthless pile of bat droppings, here!" shrieked Mr Figgs. "Stingers attacked the girl on your watch!"

"Blimey," said Mona weakly, looking from Mr Figgs to myself, and back again. "Blimey, I - "

"And you off buying stolen cauldrons? Didn't I tell you not to go! _Didn't I!_ "

"I - well, I - " Mona looked uncomfortable. "It - it was a very good business opportunity, see - "

Mr Figgs raised his arm from which he held his plastic carrier bag full of cat food in and whacked Mona around the face and neck with it.

"Ouch - gerroff - gerroff, you mad old bat! Someone's gotta tell Crighton!"

"Yes - they - have!" yelled Mr Figgs, as he swung the bag of cat food at every bit of Mona he could reach. "And - it - had - better - be - you - and - you - can - tell - her - why - you - weren't - there - to - help!"

"Keep your 'air on!" said Mona, her arms over her head, cowering. "I'm going, I'm going!"

And with another loud _crack_ , she vanished.

"I hope Crighton _murders_ her!" said Mrs Figgs furiously. "Now come _on_ , Kiara, what are you waiting for?"

I decided not to waste my remaining breath on pointing out that I could barely walk under Carol's muscly bulk. I gave the semi-conscious Carol a heave and staggered onwards.

"I'll take you to the door," said Mr Figgs, as we came to the hill, on top of which stood my grandmothers' cottage. "Just in case there are more of them around ... oh my word, what a catastrophe ... and you had to fight them off yourself ... and Crighton said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs ... well, it's no good crying over spilt potion, I suppose ... but the cat's among the pixies now."

"So," I panted, "Crighton's ... been having ... me followed?"

"Of course she has," said Mr Figgs impatiently. "Did you expect her to let you wander around on your own after what happened in June? Good Lord, girl, they told me you were intelligent ... right ... get inside and stay there," he said, as we reached the front door of the cottage. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

"What are you going to do?" I asked quickly.

"I'm going straight home," said Mr Figgs, staring down at the darkened town and shuddering. "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Goodnight."

"Hang on, don't go yet! I want to know - "

But Mr Figgs had already set off at a brisk walk, carpet slippers flopping, plastic bag clanking.

"Wait!" I shouted after him. I had a million questions to ask anyone who was in contact with Crighton, but within seconds Mr Figgs was halfway down the steep hill, and as I watched he slowly got swallowed by the darkness. I scowled, readjusted Carol on my shoulder and I made my slow, painful way up the cottage's front garden path.

The hall light was on. I stuck my wand back inside the waistband of my jeans, rang the bell and watched Grandmother Sarafina's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass on the front door.

Grandmother Sarafina opened the door, and her expression of joy was quickly replaced by a mixture of worry and shock-horror. I looked from her to Carol, and ducked out from under her arm just in time.. Carol swayed on the spot for a moment, her face green ... then she opened her mouth and vomited over the doormat.

I looked at Grandmother Sarafina, for I did not know what to do, but fortunately enough she took control of the situation at once, for she grabbed one of Carol's arms and draped it over her shoulder; I did the same with her other arm, and together we sat Carol down on the sofa. We both went to the kitchen then, I for the washing-up bowl and Grandmother Sarafina for the mop bucket, which she quickly filled with hot water. I then went into the living room, and placed the bowl in Carol's lap, as Grandmother Sarafina went to the bathroom to put bleach in the hot water. I sat a little apart from Carol as I listened to Grandmother Sarafina mop up Carol's vomit, and as I did so I kept shooting Carol fervent glances to see if she was all right, whilst thinking about Mr Figgs' connection with Crighton. I did this until Grandmother Sarafina placed the mop bucket back in the kitchen, came back into the lounge, sat in a nearby armchair and looked at me.

"All right, Kiara," she said calmly, "explain what happened."

I took a deep breath, and told her everything that had happened after I had left the play park; about how, after I caught up with Carol, I started to taunt her, and got her quite wound up, and then I told her how Carol had taunted me, which led me to pulling my wand on her.

"You pointed your wand out on Carol!" Grandmother Sarafina said sharply. "Kiara, I thought Sarabi and I had taught you better than that!"

"I know, Grandmother," I said, and I have to admit that I was ashamed of my behaviour then, "but she made me so angry because she heard you and Aunt Mavuto talking about me moaning in my sleep last night!"

Grandmother Sarafina then looked appalled at herself, and she flushed a little.

"Oh, Kiara, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking - "

"Yeah, well, I would've thought that, knowing how Mavuto is towards me, that you would have kept something like that to yourself," I said snarkily. I know that it was wrong of me to talk to her like that, but I was angry at her for betraying my trust in such a way. So what do you expect? That I was just going to sit there like she had said nothing with my fingers in my ears, and act like everything was fine and dandy? I don't think so!

Anyhoo, Grandmother Sarafina closed her eyes and nodded her head slowly a few times. "You're right, Kiara," she said, calm once more. She opened her eyes, looked at me and said, "Then what happened?"

I then went on to explain how everything went dark, silent and cold suddenly, how Carol blamed me, how I heard the Stingers before I saw them (Grandmother Sarafina didn't question me about them, so I figured that Grandmother Sarabi must have told her about them at some point or other), how they attacked us, how I tried to make a Patronus to make them back off twice before I finally did it, about how Mr Figgs found us, how he beat up Mona Fetch because she disappeared because she was supposed to be keeping an eye on me, and how Mr Figgs brought us to the door, telling Grandmother Sarafina everything he had told me on the way.

" ... and that's how we got here," I finished.

Grandmother Sarafina sat in silence for a moment, before she asked, "So ... that loud crack we heard earlier - ?"

"Was Mona Fetch Disapparating, yes," I answered. "Something about stolen cauldrons, I believe."

Grandmother Sarafina shook her head in disapproval, before she said, "So that's why she left. No wonder Mr Figgs was angry with her, to think of what could have happened ... oh, I am glad that you two are safe. Sarabi was right when she said that trusting Arnie Figgs was a good idea, despite him being a Squib - "

"Wait," I interrupted her. "You both knew he was a Squib all this time, and you never told me! Why?"

Grandmother Sarabi looked uncomfortable, before she took a deep breath and said, "Crighton's orders, Kiara. She told us we couldn't tell you - "

Crighton again! My God, that woman can be so infuriating at times! Why am I being kept in the dark here? Does Crighton not trust me anymore or something?"

"Oh, Kiara, don't talk like that. Of course she trusts you. She - "

But then, the noise of a grumbling car was heard approaching us. Grandmother Sarafina looked out the front window, and gave a surprised yelp.

"It's Mavuto's car!" she said, turning to me. "Kiara - up the stairs - quick! I'll try not to let Mavuto get your attention. Go!"

I nodded, before I leapt off the sofa and dashed to the door to the stairs, bolted up them, got to my room and shut the door behind me quickly. I sat on the edge of my bed, nervous, waiting. I was glad that Grandmother Sarafina was trying to protect me, but somehow I didn't think she was going to protect me from this one; after all, we both knew what Mavuto's temper was like, and what she thought of me. In her eyes, I was a rat next to her prized stallion of a daughter, you know.

I was then brought out of my thoughts by the sounds of laughter coming from below, which then vanished as a shriek from Aunt Mavuto made me jump, which meant that she had seen the state that Carol was in. I shut my eyes then, and braced myself for the worst, for it wouldn't be long until she discovered that I had been with Carol ... and sure enough ... a few minutes later -

"GIRL! GET DOWN HERE! NOW!"

With a feeling of mingled dread and anger, I got up slowly from my bed, made my way across the room, opened my door and made my way slowly downstairs.

When I entered the lounge, I saw that Grandmother Sarafina was sat next to Carol and had her arm around her, and that Carol still looked green and clammy. Uncle Frank was sat in one of the armchairs, who looked at me stern-faced when I came in, but there was a twinkle in his eyes when he saw me, so I knew that he wasn't mad at me, which I was glad of. I gave him a small smile as I turned my eyes on my aunt, whose face was an unmistakeable mask of pure fury.

"So," she started, her hands clenched in shaking fists, her eyes blazing with anger, "my mother tells us that you were with Carol when this happened, and that you used your - your _thing_ on her, and that's how she ended up like this! Isn't that right, girl?"

"No, it's not! I swear, this wasn't - "

"Oh, how much longer do we have to put up with your _lies_ , girl?" my aunt burst out angrily.

"I'm not lying!" I said sharply, as Aunt Mavuto shook her head furiously. "I didn't do anything to her, it wasn't me, it was - "

But at that precise moment, a screech owl swooped in through the kitchen window. It soared across the kitchen, dropped the envelope it was carrying in its beak at my feet, turned gracefully and zoomed outside again and off across the garden.

"OWLS!" my aunt screamed, the massive vein in her temple pulsing angrily as she started to pace the floor. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANYMORE OWLS IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN!"

"This is not your house, Mavuto!" said Grandmother Sarafina sharply. "You have no right to say things like that here!"

"Oh, you know what I mean, Mum!" said Aunt Mavuto impatiently, as I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside, my heart pounding in my throat.

 _Dear Miss Pride-Lander,_

 _We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle._

 _The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Dragon Mort Magical Academy. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._

 _As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statue of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August._

 _Hoping you are well,_

 _Mafalda Hopkirk_

 _Improper Use of Magic Office_

 _Ministry of Magic_

I read the letter through twice. I was only vaguely aware of Aunt Mavuto, Uncle Frank, Carol and Grandmother Sarabi all watching me. At that moment, inside my head, all was icy and numb. One fact had penetrated my consciousness like a paralysing dart, for I thought that I had been expelled from Dragon Mort, that it was all over and that I was never going back. It was an all time low moment for me then, I won't lie to you.

I then looked at the Smiths and Grandmother Sarafina. My aunt was red-faced and was making annoyed huffs every now and then as she paced. My uncle was still sat in the armchair, looking concernedly at his wife as she paced. Grandmother Sarafina had her arms around Carol, who retched again.

My temporarily stupefied brain seemed to have reawaken. _Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._ I foolishly thought then that there was only one thing for me to do - and that was to run at once. Where I was going to go, to this day I still have no idea, but I was certain of one thing: at Dragon Mort or outside it, I needed my wand. In an almost dreamlike state, I turned towards the door that led to the stairs.

"Kiara?" Grandmother Sarafina said suddenly. I thought I detected a hint of worry in her voice, but I couldn't be sure.

"Oi! Where d'you think you're going?" yelled Aunt Mavuto. When I didn't answer, she pounded across the lounge, grabbed my arm and spun me around to face her. "I haven't finished with you, girl!"

"Let go of me!" I snarled, as I struggled to get out of my aunt's tight grip, which tightened the more I struggled.

"You're going to stay here and explain how my daughter - "

I struggled out of her grip, raised my wand and said, "If you don't leave me alone, _dear Aunt_ , then I'm going to have to jinx you."

"You can't pull that one on me!" snarled Aunt Mavuto. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!"

"The madhouse has chucked me out," I said.

"Kiara!" Grandmother Sarafina gasped, before I could say anything else. "You can't say that about your own school!"

"Why not? She said it!" I said, nodding my head at my aunt. I saw Grandmother Sarafina and Uncle Frank look at each other, shocked, as though they couldn't believe what I had just said, but I found that I did not care. In fact, I am ashamed to say that I did not care about much at that moment, apart from the fact that I had to get out of the cottage before the Ministry showed up. So I turned back to my aunt again and said, "Seeing as the madhouse has chucked me out, I can do whatever I like. You've got three seconds. One - two - "

A resounding CRACK filled the lounge. Uncle Frank jumped, Aunt Mavuto screamed, but for the third time that night I searched for the source of a disturbance that I had not made. I spotted it at once: a dazed and ruffled-looking barn owl was sitting outside the lounge sill, having just collided with the closed window.

I ignored my aunt's anguished yell of "OWLS!", crossed the room at a run and wrenched the window open. The owl stuck out its leg, to which a small roll of parchment was tied, shook its feathers, and took off the moment I had taken the letter. My hands shook as I unfurled the second letter, which was written very hastily and blotchily in black ink.

 _Kiara -_

 _My wife has just arrived at the Ministry and she's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR GRANDMOTHERS' COTTAGE. DO NOT DO ANYMORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND._

 _Matthew Dawson_

Crighton was trying to sort it all out ... those were the first words that hit me, but what did that mean? I wondered how much power Crighton had over the Ministry of Magic. And then another thought hit me: was there a small chance that I could allowed back into Dragon Mort? A small shoot of hope burgeoned in my chest, which was almost immediately strangled by panic - how was I supposed to refuse to surrender my wand without doing magic? I knew I'd have to duel with the Ministry representatives, and if I'd done that, then I'd have been lucky to escape Azkaban, never mind expulsion. And looking back now, I'm glad that I didn't leave, for I would've made a bad situation even worse.

Oh, how my heart raced ... two options were circling each other: either I could've run for it and risked being caught by the Ministry, or stay put and wait for them to find me at my grandmothers' cottage. At that moment, I was very tempted to do the former, but I knew that Mr Dawson had my best interests at heart ... and after all, Crighton had sorted out much worse than this before this point.

"Right," I said, "I've changed my mind, I'm staying."

I flung myself into the other armchair in front of the window that the owl had crashed into and faced Carol, Grandmother Sarafina, Aunt Mavuto and Uncle Frank. They all appeared to be taken aback at my abrupt change of mind. My aunt glanced despairingly at Uncle Frank, as the vein in her temple throbbed worse than ever.

"Who are all these ruddy owls from?" she then growled.

"The first one was from the Ministry of Magic, expelling me," I said calmly. I strained my ears in order to catch any noises outside, just in case the Ministry representatives were approaching, and it was easier and quieter to answer my aunt's questions than have her start raging and bellowing. "The second one was from my friend Chrissie's dad, who works at the Ministry."

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Uncle Frank asked calmly, his eyebrows raised in shock. "Wizards and witches are in government?"

"Yes, Uncle," I muttered quietly. My aunt, who was still pacing was growling as she walked. Then she suddenly stopped, turned to me and said, "And why have you been expelled?"

"Because I did magic."

"AHA!" my aunt roared, as she pointed her finger insultingly at me. "So you admit it! _What did you do to Carol?_ "

"Nothing," I said, slightly less calmly. "That wasn't me - "

 _"Was,"_ Carol muttered unexpectedly, and my aunt was the only one who made flapping noises at me to quieten me whilst she bent low over Carol.

"What did she do, darling?" she whispered gently, brushing aside some of Carol's hair.

"Pointed her wand at me," Carol mumbled.

"Yeah, I did, but I didn't use - " I began angrily, but -

"SHUT UP!" Aunt Mavuto roared.

Uncle Frank stood up then, and said, "Mav, calm down, please! And don't quieten Kiara! For all we know, she could be innocent!"

"Oh, don't you take the girl's side, Frank!" Aunt Mavuto growled, jumping to her feet and turning on her husband. "She did this to our daughter, I know it!" She looked at him with mad, bulging eyes. Uncle Frank was so shocked that he sank back down slowly into his chair. Aunt Mavuto then knelt back down beside Carol, her expression and tone gentle once more.

"Go on, darling," she said, brushing her daughter's hair again.

"All went dark," Carol said hoarsely, shuddering. "Everything dark. And then I h-heard ... _things_. Inside m-my head."

Even though my uncle was a fan of the magical world, he was just as frightened as Aunt Mavuto was when they heard that Carol had heard things inside her head. They obviously thought Carol was losing her mind.

Uncle Frank then got up once more, walked over to Carol, bent next to his wife and said to his daughter, "What sort of things did you hear, love?"

But Carol seemed incapable of saying. She shuddered again and shook her round, mousy-brown head, and despite the sense of numb dread that had settled over me since the arrival of the first owl, I felt a certain curiosity. Stingers caused a person to relive the worst moments of their lives, so what would spoiled, pampered, bullying Carol have been forced to hear, I wondered?

"How come you fell over?" said Uncle Frank quietly, in a calm, soothing voice.

"T-tripped," said Carol shakily. "And then - "

She gestured at her chest. I understood. Carol was remembering the clammy cold that filled the lungs as hope and happiness were sucked out of you.

"Horrible," cracked Carol. "Cold. Really cold."

"OK," said Aunt Mavuto, in a voice of forced calm, as she raised a shaking hand to Carol's forehead to feel her temperature. "What happened then, darling?"

"Felt ... felt ... felt ... as if ... as if ..."

"As if you'd never be happy again," I supplied dully.

"Yes," Carol whispered, still trembling.

"So!" spat Aunt Mavuto, her voice restored to full and considerable volume as she straightened up and turned to face me again. "You put some crackpot spell on my daughter so she'd hear voices and believe she was - was doomed to misery, or something, did you?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" I said, my temper and voice both rising. " _It wasn't me!_ It was a couple of Stingers!"

Uncle Frank spun round, looking at me curiously.

"A couple of _what_?"

"Stin - gers," I said, slowly and clearly. "Two of them."

"And what exactly are Stingers, Kiara?" my Uncle asked, genuinely interested.

"They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban," said Aunt Mavuto calmly.

The seconds of ringing silence followed these words before Aunt Mavuto clapped her hands over her mouth as though she had let slip a disgusting swear word. Uncle Frank was goggling at her. Mr Figgs was one thing - but _Aunt Mavuto_?

"How d'you know that?" I asked her, astonished.

Aunt Mavuto looked quite appalled with herself. Her face had paled considerably as she glanced around fitfully, as though she were waiting for someone to speak for her. In the end, Grandmother Sarafina did it.

"Honestly, Mavuto, you have nothing to be ashamed of! It isn't as though you've done something illegal, after all!" Grandmother Sarafina huffed. She then sighed deeply, turned to me and said, "She overheard Sarabi and myself talk about them a few years ago. I think she ran when she heard us talking about them, not only because she didn't want to hear any more, and also because she didn't want us to know that it was she who was eavesdropping. Isn't that right, Mavuto dear?" Grandmother Sarafina asked Aunt Mavuto, who nodded her head eagerly, looking horribly flustered.

I was stunned by this new piece of information. I was astounded that, even though this information was a few years old, Aunt Mavuto had remembered this piece of information for so long, when she usually put all her energies into pretending it didn't exist.

Uncle Frank was shocked that his wife knew this, for he opened and closed his mouth a few times, before he croaked, "So - so - they - er - they - er - they actually exist, then, do they - these - er - these Stingers?"

Aunt Mavuto nodded, as I said, "Yes, Uncle."

There was silence for several minutes, and the only sound that disrupted it was Carol vomiting. The silence eventually ended by a third owl soaring through the open lounge window, which landed on the coffee table, causing all three Smiths to jump with fright. I tore a second official-looking envelope from the owl's beak and ripped it open as the owl swooped back out into the night.

"Enough of these effing owls!" Aunt Mavuto snarled distractedly, as I read the letter.

 _Dear Miss Pride-Lander,_

 _Further to our letter approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken._

 _Following discussions with the Headmistress of Dragon Mort Magical Academy, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further enquiries._

 _With Best Wishes,_

 _Your sincerely,_

 _Mafalda Hopkirk_

 _Improper Use of Magic Office_

 _Ministry of Magic_

I read this letter through three times in quick succession. The miserable knot in my chest loosened slightly with the relief of knowing that I was not yet definitely expelled, though my fears were by no means banished just then, oh no. Everything seemed to hang on this hearing on the twelfth of August.

"Well?" said Aunt Mavuto, who had stood up once more and looked red again, as she recalled me to my surroundings. "What now? Have they sentenced you to anything? Do you lot have the death penalty?" she added as a hopeful afterthought.

 _"Mavuto!"_ Grandmother Sarafina shrieked, shocked, but Aunt Mavuto ignored her.

"I've got to go to a hearing," I said.

"And they'll sentence you there?"

"I suppose so."

"I won't give up hope, then," said Aunt Mavuto nastily.

"Well, if that's all," I said, as I got to my feet. I was desperate to be alone, to think, and perhaps send a letter to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and my parents. I knew I would receive a call from Grandmother Sarabi later.

"NO, IT RUDDY WELL IS NOT ALL!" shouted Aunt Mavuto. "SIT BACK DOWN!"

"What _now_?" I said impatiently.

"CAROL!" roared Aunt Mavuto. "I want to know exactly what happened to my daughter!"

"FINE!" I yelled, and in my temper, red and gold sparks shot out of the end of my wand, which was still clenched in my hand. Aunt Mavuto flinched, as Grandmother Sarafina and Uncle Frank looked concerned for me, but all of them looked terrified.

"Carol and I were in an alleyway near here," I said, speaking fast as I fought to control my temper. "Carol thought she'd be smart with me, so I pulled out my wand but I _didn't use it on her_. Then two Stingers turned up - "

"But what _are_ Stingers, Kiara?" Uncle Frank asked calmly, turning to face me. "What do they _do_?"

"I told you, they suck all the happiness out of you," I said, "and if they get the chance, they suck you - "

"Suck you?" said Uncle Frank, looking disgusted at the term. " _Suck_ you?"

"Yeah, I know it's disgusting - it's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth."

Aunt Mavuto's angry look turned quickly into one of pure terror, as she let out a loud scream.

"Her _soul_? They didn't take - she's still got her - "

She then squeezed Carol tightly, as though she was testing whether or not she could feel that Carol's soul was still inside her daughter.

"Of course they didn't get her soul, you'd know if they had," I said, exasperated.

Aunt Mavuto sighed, relieved, then stood back and said proudly, "So you fought 'em off, did you, girl? give 'em the old one-two, I expect?"

"You can't give a Stinger _the old one-two_ ," I said through clenched teeth.

"Why's she all right, then?" my aunt blustered. "Why isn't she all empty, then?"

"Because I used the Patronus - "

Before I could finish explaining to my imbecilic aunt why her daughter was OK, a fourth owl swept in through the lounge window and landed on the coffee table.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" my aunt roared, throwing her hands up into the air. "NO MORE OWLS! HEAVEN KNOWS I CAN'T STAND THE BIRDS!"

But I was already pulling a roll of parchment from the owl's leg. I was so convinced that this letter had to be from Crighton, explaining everything - the Stingers, Mr Figgs, what the Ministry was up to, how she, Crighton, intended to sort everything out - that for the first time in my life I was slightly disappointed to see my father's handwriting. I ignored my aunt's ongoing rant about owls, and the most recent owl soared back out of the lounge window, as I read my father's message.

 _Kiara -_

 _Matthew has just told us what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do._

 _Daddy_

I found this such an inadequate response to everything that I went through that night that I turned the piece of parchment over, looking for the rest of the letter, but there was nothing else.

And my temper then rose again. Wasn't _anybody_ going to say "well done" to me because I fought off two Stingers single-handed? Both my father and Mr Dawson acted like I had misbehaved, and were saving their tellings-off until they could ascertain how much damage had been done.

" ... a peck, I mean, pack of owls shooting in and out of this house. I won't have it, girl, I won't - "

"I can't stop the owls coming," I snapped, as I crushed my father's letter in my fist. "No one can!"

"I want the truth about what happened tonight!" barked Aunt Mavuto. "If it was Stingers that hurt Carol, how come you've been expelled? You did you-know-what, you've admitted it!"

I took a deep, steadying breath. My head began to ache again. I wanted more than anything to get out of the lounge and away from my stupid aunt.

"I did the Patronus Charm to get rid of the Stingers," I said, as I forced myself to remain calm. "It's the only thing that works against them."

"But what were Stingers doing in South Wales?" said Aunt Mavuto in an outraged tone.

"Couldn't tell you," I said wearily. "No idea."

My head was pounding in the glare of the strip-lighting as my anger ebbed away. I felt drained, exhausted. The Smiths and Grandmother Sarafina were all staring at me. I was fortunate then that Grandmother Sarafina spoke up.

"Mavuto, I think that's enough for tonight. Kiara's exhausted and Carol's ill. Don't you think it would be wise to save the rest of this conversation for the morning? I mean - "

"No, Mum!" Aunt Mavuto shot at Grandmother Sarafina angrily. "This gets settled now." She then focused her attention back on me, and said forcefully, "They were here because of you, weren't they, hm? All of this was something to do with you, girl, I know it. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that alleyway? You've got to be the only - the only - " Evidently, she couldn't bring herself to say the word "witch". "The only _you-know-what_ for miles ... well, right now, anyway."

"I don't know why they were here."

But at Aunt Mavuto's words, my exhausted brain had ground back into action. Why _had_ the Stingers come to South Wales? How could it have been a coincidence that they had arrived in the alleyway where I was? I wondered if they had been sent, and if so, had the Ministry of Magic lost control of the Stingers? Had they deserted Azkaban and joined Zira, as Crighton predicted they would?

"The Stingers guard Azkaban, then?" asked Aunt Mavuto, lumbering along in the train of my thoughts.

"Yes," I said.

I wanted my head to stop hurting so badly, and that I could just leave the lounge, get to my room and _just think_ ...

"Oho! They were coming to arrest you!" said Aunt Mavuto, with the air of a woman reaching an unassailable conclusion. "That's it, isn't it, girl? You're on the run from the law?"

"Of course I'm not," I said, shaking my head as though to scare off a fly, as my mind raced.

"Then why - ?"

"She must have sent them," I said quietly, more to myself than Aunt Mavuto.

"What's that? Who must have sent them?"

"Lady Zira," I said.

I registered dimly that Aunt Mavuto and Carol, who flinched, winced and squawked if they heard words like "witch", "magic" or "wand", could hear the name of the most evil witch of all time without the slightest tremor.

"Lady - hang on," said Aunt Mavuto slowly, her face a mask of confusion as she thought. "I've heard that name before ... that was the one who - "

"Separated my parents from me, yes," I said dully.

"But she's gone," said Aunt Mavuto impatiently, disbelievingly, in fact, without the slightest sign that the almost-murderer of my parents and myself was a painful subject. "I've overheard my mother say she's gone several times!"

"She's back," I said heavily.

I felt strange, standing there in my grandmothers' cottage and talking calmly of Lady Zira to Aunt Mavuto, who had paled slightly with shock. The arrival of the Stingers in South Wales seemed to have breached the great, invisible wall that divided the relentlessly non-magical world of the Smiths and the world beyond. My two worlds had suddenly become fused and everything had been turned upside-down; Aunt Mavuto was asking questions about the magical world, and Mr Figgs knew Susan Crighton; Stingers were soaring around South Wales, and I was facing the possibility of never returning to Dragon Mort. My head throbbed only more painfully.

"Back?" Aunt Mavuto then whispered.

She was looking at me as she had never looked at me before that moment. And all of a sudden, for the very first time in my life, I fully appreciated that Aunt Mavuto was my mother's sister. I could not say why that hit me so powerfully at that moment (if you asked me now, though, I'd say it was because that was the first time she had showed any genuine care in my life(. All I knew was that Grandmother Sarafina and I were not the only people in that room who had an inkling of what Lady Zira being back might mean. Aunt Mavuto had never in her life looked at me like that before. Her large, aqua-marine eyes (so very like her sister's) were not narrowed in dislike or anger, they were wide and fearful, as were Grandmother Sarafina's. The furious pretence that Aunt Mavuto had maintained all my life - that there was no magic and no world other than the world she inhabited with Uncle Frank and Carol - seemed to have fallen away.

"Yes," I said, my temper as calm as my aunt's was. "She came back a month ago. I swear."

"You see now, don't you, Mavuto?" Grandmother Sarafina said from the sofa, her arms still around Carol. "This is why Kiara saved Carol."

"I know that now, Mum," Aunt Mavuto said gently to her, a sad smile on her face as she stroked Carol's hair gently. She then looked at me and said, "Thank you - Kiara - for - for saving my daughter's life."

I blinked rapidly, completely taken aback by this. Was this real? I asked myself then, as I looked at my aunt steadily and cautiously, wondering if she was fooling me. She looked at me steadily, however, so I said, "Y-you're welcome, Aunt."

Aunt Mavuto just nodded her head.

"Wait a minute," said Uncle Frank, looking from his wife to me and back again, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding that had sprung up between us. "This Lady Zira's back, you say?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"The one who separated your parents from you?"

"Yes, Uncle."

"And now she's sending Stingers after you?"

When I answered in the affirmative once more, my uncle seemed not angry, but shocked and surprised. "Wow," he said. "So this ... this is happening again, isn't it? You're in trouble, aren't you, Kiara?"

"Yes, Uncle. And sooner or later, everyone in this room will be, too." The Smiths and Grandmother Sarafina were all shocked by my words, but I could tell that they knew, as well as I did, that things from this point on were never going to be the same again for any of us, and that things were going to get a whole lot worse before they indeed got better.

After I had let the shock sink in, I spoke to my uncle once more. "I hope you're not angry with me, Uncle Frank. It's just that - "

"No, no, it's all right, Kiara," he said gently. "I'm not angry at you. I'm just ... I'm just having a hard time taking this all in, that's all."

"I think we all are," said Aunt Mavuto, as she took her husband's hand.

The silence settled in upon us once more. Grandmother Sarafina still had her arms around Carol, who had stopped retching by this point. Aunt Mavuto and Uncle Frank were both standing up, their arms around each other. I just stood where I was, with the letters from Mr Dawson and my father crushed in my left hand. _Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR GRANDMOTHERS' COTTAGE._

The silence was then broken by Aunt Mavuto, who had turned angry once more and said, "But this does not change the fact that you put my daughter in great danger tonight, girl, and I do not care whether this is my mother's house or not! I want you out of it!"

"What?" I said.

"You heard me - OUT!" bellowed Aunt Mavuto, so loudly that Uncle Frank, Carol and Grandmother Sarafina jumped. "You have caused more trouble to me than I would have thought possible - not to mention the danger that you have bought to our family! I don't care where you go, girl, or what you do, but I never want to see your face again! So go on! Get out! You wanted to leave before, so what's stopping you now, huh?"

But before I could say anything, a fifth owl flew in, which zoomed in through the lounge window. I raised my hand to seize the letter, which was in the scarlet envelope, but it soared right over my head, and flew directly at Grandmother Sarafina, who looked up in surprise, as the owl dropped the letter into her lap, before it turned and flew straight back out the window.

Grandmother Sarafina let go of Carol and picked up the letter with her trembling hands.

"You can open it if you like, Grandmother," I said, "but I'll hear it anyway - we all will. That's a Howler."

"What's a Howler?" Uncle Frank asked curiously.

"A very loud and angry letter," I answered simply.

"So ... do you think I should open it, Kiara?" Grandmother Sarafina asked nervously.

"No harm will come to you if you do, I assure you," I answered.

Grandmother Sarafina nodded and, hands trembling, she slowly opened the Howler. She dropped it in surprise as the Howler began to smoke at the corner, but she picked it up and continued opening it again fast enough.

As soon as she had opened it, an awful voice issued from the smoking letter, which echoed around the confined space, which issued from the letter itself.

 _"Remember my last, Sarafina."_

Grandmother Sarafina's eyes widened in shock, as she dropped the Howler, which had then just burst into flame and fell to the floor in a pile of ashes. Aunt Mavuto clung on to Uncle Frank's arm for support, as the two of them and Carol looked at her. Grandmother Sarafina then suddenly stood up, surprising us all, and glared at her daughter with such anger that Mavuto seemed to cower and back away slightly as Grandmother Sarafina stalked slowly towards her, like a lioness closing in on her prey.

"No, Mavuto, my granddaughter shall not leave this house tonight," Grandmother Sarafina spoke quietly, yet loudly enough that we could all hear her. There was a dangerous note to her voice, that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "The only one that shall be leaving this house tonight is YOU, Mavuto! Kiara saved Carol's life, and yet you want to chuck her out of _my_ house? No ... unacceptable, Mavuto! You've gone too far this time! Just because you don't accept Kiara and Nala for who they are, does not mean that I share your views on the matter!" Breathing deeply, she then said calmly, but by no means any less dangerously, "Now, take your family, and get out ... now!"

Grandmother Sarafina glared at Mavuto, who was still cowering under her mother's intense glare, before she straightened herself and said, in a strained voice, "Come on, Carol ... Frank ... I believe that we have outstayed our welcome ..."

Shakily, she went to where Carol was, helped her up and led her past me, out the front door and to her car, leaving Uncle Frank and I behind with Grandmother Sarafina. To be honest, I do not know who looked more shocked out of my uncle and I, for neither of us had ever seen Grandmother Sarafina stand up to Aunt Mavuto like that before that point, but I will tell you this - it was a very long time coming!

The three of us jumped as we heard the impatient sounds of a horn honking outside, which meant that Aunt Mavuto and Carol were in the car and were waiting for Uncle Frank, who straightened his tie and said nervously, "I'm sorry about that, Sarafina. I didn't know Mavuto was going to act like that."

"Oh, that's all right, Frank," said Grandmother Sarafina, waving aside his apology with a wave of her hand. "I'm well aware of Mavuto's mood swings, they don't offend me at all - but when she started speaking to Kiara like that ... well, I'm sorry I had to speak to her that way, Frank, but - "

"Hey, don't worry about it," said Uncle Frank. "Although, I am disappointed with what happened a few minutes ago, for it seemed like we were getting somewhere. Mav was calm and gentle around Kiara - and then she changed! I don't understand why that happened!"

"I know, Frank," Grandmother Sarafina said, smiling with understanding. "But I'd like to think that what happened tonight is a good start. Who knows, Mavuto might want to start building a relationship with Kiara after all this time. It's never too late, and despite everything, I am still hopeful for the day when that happens."

Uncle Frank chuckled. "As am I," he said. He then kissed Grandmother Sarafina once on each cheek, and then he turned to me. He looked at me gently and said, "Thank you, Kiara, for saving my daughter."

"You're welcome, Uncle," I said. He then kissed me on the cheek, and then we hugged. He then nodded to Grandmother Sarafina once we had let go of each other, and then went to the car.

When the car was moving, Uncle Frank waved to us, and Grandmother Sarafina and I waved back, and looked as the car drove down the hill and was swallowed by the impending darkness.

Once the car had disappeared from our view, Grandmother Sarafina and I stepped back inside. Once the door was shut, it took me a few seconds to realise that it was just Grandmother Sarafina and myself alone in the house again, and I relished in the peace and quiet that fell on my ears. I turned to Grandmother Sarafina, and I saw that she was watching me closely. I was then reminded of the Howler, which I asked her about.

To my surprise and anger, however, Grandmother Sarafina said, "I'm sorry, Kiara, but I cannot tell you. Crighton told Sarabi and I to not tell you anything until we have to."

Crighton again? Why was she not trusting me all of a sudden? Sensing my rising anger at my Headmistress, Grandmother Sarafina then said, "She might tell you herself what that Howler was about when she wants to, Kiara, but for now, I'm afraid that you're just going to have to be patient, no matter how annoying that may sound to you right now."

I frowned and slumped my shoulders, realising that she was right and that it was useless to argue with her, even though my anger was still coursing through my body like burning heat, which only made my head pound harder. Needing the comfort of my room desperately, I then said to her, "I know, Grandmother, it's just hard to know that Crighton tells you all these things, and yet she leaves me in the dark." I huffed, shook my head and said, slightly calmer, "Listen, it's getting late and I've got a few things to do before I go to bed. I'll be OK, though. I promise."

"All right then, Kiara," Grandmother Sarafina said gently. "Do you want anything before you go up, or - ?"

"No, I'm all right, thanks," I told her. "I just want to be by myself for a while. I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Grandmother," I said, as I kissed her cheek.

"Goodnight, Kiara dear," Grandmother Sarafina said, and as I ran up the stairs, I felt Grandmother Sarafina's eyes on me all the way up the stairs, until I disappeared, with a sigh of relief, into the sanctuary that was my room.

 **AN: Sorry about the lame parts about Mavuto trying to kick Kiara out before the Howler, but it's all important to the plot. However, I do hope that you all like how Sarafina stood up for Kiara after the she heard the Howler. I'll be posting again on Sunday.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **The Advanced Guard.**

 **SRAFINA**

Not long after her beloved granddaughter, Kiara, had gone up to bed, Sarafina found herself sitting on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and the downstairs television on, not really watching the late night news, but thinking about what had happened that evening.

And to think, it had all started with that loud _crack_ earlier, Sarafina thought as she sipped her wine. But that wasn't what worried her the most. No, what worried her was Kiara. She knew that Carol would be shaken up by what had happened, but she would soon get over it - but Kiara ... she was a different matter entirely. Sarafina had never seen her granddaughter get that angry before at anyone - not even Mavuto. She was concerned for her granddaughter's behaviour, and was angry at Crighton for keeping her granddaughter in the dark and away from her friends for so long.

She was hoping that Sarabi would call. She really needed to talk to her about what happened, and ask her to talk to Kiara, for Sarafina knew that Sarabi called Kiara each night before she went to sleep, and Kiara did seem much more calmer and happier the next day, and Sarafina was grateful to Sarabi for calling her. Sarafina always knew that out of the two of them, Kiara had always been close to Sarabi. And was Sarafina jealous of that? You would think so, but no, she wasn't. She knew it was the magical bond between them, and she was happy for it. Sarafina would have loved to have been born magical so that she could have that kind of bond with Nala, but alas, it was not meant to be.

Just then, Sarafina's phone rang. She picked it up and, without looking at the caller I.D., she answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello, Sarafina," came a familiar voice. It was Sarabi. "How are you?"

"Worried. You?"

"The same, Sara," Sarabi sighed. "How's Kiara?"

"Honestly, she's a whirlwind of emotions right now. "I suppose Crighton knows everything that happened tonight?"

"Yes, she does," Sarabi said, "and I have to say that she was very angry at what had happened. Although, I have to admit, she wasn't as angry as Simba, Nala and I were. Even Sian - her eldest daughter - was angry at her mother. Crighton, of course, put up with Sian's comments as best she could - as well as Chris and Chrissie's, for that matter."

"Crighton just let her children speak to her like that?" Sarafina said. "Why?"

"Well, you see, Sara, Sian, Chris and Chrissie - as well as myself, Simba, Nala and many others - have been telling Susan for the last few weeks that keeping Kiara away from her friends and people that are close to her is wrong. In fact, earlier tonight, Sian said these exact words to her mother: "Imagine you being in Kiara's shoes right now, Ma, trapped and isolated, with no one really around to talk to properly. How would you feel?" I think that might have triggered a memory or something in Susan, for she looked very pale, and was in her own world for a while. But she finally agreed to get some people together who will come and bring Kiara to us in a few days."

"Oh, thank goodness," Sarafina sighed, relieved that something was going to happen.

"Sarafina, promise me you won't say anything to Kiara? She's not supposed to know, that's what Crighton said, anyway."

"Of course I understand, Sarabi. I won't say a word, I swear," Sarafina said. "Oh, and before you go, I have to tell you about Mavuto - "

"Oh, what's she done now?" Sarabi said, clearly exasperated. "If she's done anything to hurt Kiara, I swear, I'll - "

"No, Sarabi. Listen, Mavuto was angry with Kiara for what had happened to Carol at first, but after she heard about Zira being back, she calmed down."

"She did?" Sarabi said, shocked. "How?"

"I ... I don't know. I just know that she calmed down and became gentler to Kiara. She even called Kiara by her name, and she said it like she meant it!"

"Wow, that's amazing! It sounds too good to be true!" Sarabi said, amazed by what she was hearing.

"I know, Sarabi. After all these years, we finally got somewhere - well, we did, before Mavuto started to blame Kiara for putting danger on her family and tried to push her out of the house."

"WHAT?" Sarabi yelled.

"I know," Sarafina said. "But then a Howler came, which said: "Remember my last, Sarafina", which was referring to - "

"I know what it was referring to, Sarafina," said Sarabi quickly. "I was there too, remember? So then what happened?"

"Well, I took control of the situation and told Mavuto to take her family and get out of my home."

"You did?" said Sarabi, amusement evident in her voice. "Ha! Good on you! I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to do that over the years!"

"I know what you mean," Sarafina said. The two women chuckled before Sarafina yawned. "Sorry, Sarabi, but it's getting late. Is it all right if we talk tomorrow?"

"Sure, I understand. Oh, but before you go, I have to say that this whole hearing thing that Kiara has to go to is ridiculous. She wasn't attacking her cousin, she was _defending her cousin_ , for crying out loud!"

"I know, I feel the same way," Sarafina said, glad that she wasn't the only one who thought that the hearing that Kiara had to go to was unfair. "Oh, and Sarabi? Are you going to call Kiara tonight? I think she wants to hear from you before she goes to bed, to give her some comfort after what happened tonight, you know?"

"I know. I'm going to do that now. So, we'll talk tomorrow, then?"

"Sure. 'Night, Sarabi."

"'Night, Sarafina." And Sarabi hung up.

Sarafina put her phone down. She was worried about Kiara's future at the school, but she knew that Crighton had Kiara's back. Besides, she was happy that plans were finally being made to get Kiara back with her best friends in the world and her parents. So this, along with how Mavuto acting calm around Kiara (even if it was only for a few moments), made Sarafina hopeful that things were starting to get better ...

 **KIARA**

Well, she was wrong about things starting to get better, because they weren't going to until June 2009. And I only recently learnt about Grandmother Sarafina knowing about the plan to have a number of people to come and rescue me, which I'm not happy about, but that's how it is (for anyone who's wondering, Grandmother Sarafina still lives). Anyhoo, when I got to my room, I got three separate pieces of parchment and copied these words down on each of them.

 _I've just been attacked by Stingers and I might be expelled from Dragon Mort. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to see you._

I addressed the first to my parents, the second to Chris, the third to Sian and the fourth slip of parchment I addressed to Chrissie. My owl, Harold, was off hunting; his cage stood empty on my desk. I paced the bedroom, waiting for him to come back, my head pounding, my brain too busy for sleep, even though my eyes itched and stung with tiredness. My back ached from hauling Carol to the cottage, and the two lumps on my head from where the window-sill and Carol hit me were throbbing painfully.

Up and down I paced, consumed with my anger and frustration which had returned with full force, as I ground my teeth and clenched my fists, casting angry looks out at the empty, star-strewn sky every time I passed the window. Stingers sent to get me, Mr Figgs and Mona Fetch were tailing me in secret, then suspension from Dragon Mort and a hearing at the Ministry of Magic - and still no one was telling me what was going on.

And what, _what_ , had that Howler been about? And whose voice had echoed so horribly, so menacingly through the kitchen?

I was furious with being trapped there without any information, and I was even angrier with everyone treating me like a child who had misbehaved: _Don't do any more magic, stay in the cottage_ ...

I kicked my trunk as I passed it, but far from relieving my anger, I felt worse, as I had a sharp pain in my toe to deal with in addition to the pain in the rest of my body.

As I hobbled in pain, my phone rang. I picked it up and answered without looking at the caller I.D., because I knew who it was.

"Hi, Grandmother Sarabi."

"Kiara," she said, as relieved to hear my voice as I was to hear hers. "How are you, child?"

I sighed deeply and said in a heavy, tired voice, "I'm angry, Grandmother. I'm angry at the Ministry because of this stupid hearing. I'm angry at everyone for treating me like a child, all because I saved my cousin's life from a pair of Stingers, and I'm angry at Crighton for keeping me in the dark for so long, when I was the one who told her that Zira was back in the first place!" I was breathing heavy into my phone by this point, as my temper rose to boiling point again.

Grandmother Sarabi, though, was as calm and understanding as ever. "I know, sweetie. Most of us here are angry at Crighton at the moment, but we have to rely on her. She's good for the cause, you know. Anyway, I know why the Ministry are summoning you to a hearing - "

"Really?" I said excitedly, for I was hopeful that I was going to get some information at last. "Why?"

Grandmother Sarabi hesitated, then said, "I can't tell you, Kiara - at least not right now."

"But, Grandmother - "

"I know, sweetie, but there is much you have to understand, and it's best to tell you about it when we're face to face. Besides, it also has to do with how your father and Mr Dawson wrote to you the way they did. You just have to be patient for some time more, all right, sweetie?"

"Yes, Grandmother," I sighed.

"Good. Now, about this hearing of yours ... I want you to remember one thing and one thing only, and that's that you've done nothing wrong. I can't say more than that to you just now, Kiara. So, keep your chin up and keep telling yourself that you've done nothing wrong. Can you do that for me?"

I gave a soft chuckle and said, "Yes, Grandmother, I can do that."

"That's my girl. Right, I'll let you go, because it's late and I expect that you're tired, so all I'll say for now is that I'll be seeing you soon, sweetie - _real_ soon," she added teasingly.

"Wait, I'll be coming to see you soon?" I said, excitement flooding through me once more. "When?"

"I can't say when, sweetie, but it won't be long, I assure you. For now, though, I bid you goodnight. I love you, Kiara."

"Love you too, Grandmother." She hung up then, and I put my phone down. Despite my worries about this hearing, and my frustration towards the Ministry and Crighton, I was happy that I was going to be seeing my friends and the rest of my family soon.

Harold then came swooping in through my bedroom window, a dead frog clasped from in his beak, and landed on my window-sill. When I saw Harold, I suddenly remembered all about the letters I had written to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and my parents. Even though Grandmother Sarabi couldn't tell me anything, that didn't stop me from trying to get information from other sources. So I let Harold eat his frog before I called him to me so I could tie the four scrolls to his scaly leg, telling him to take them to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and my parents.

"I want answers from them, Harold. If you have to, keep pecking at them 'til they've written decent length answers. Do you understand?"

Harold blinked his large amber eyes at me and gave my fingers an affectionate nip, before he soared back out the window and into the night. I felt even happier with the thought that he might return the next day with the answers from my parents, Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

I thought that they were bound to write back quickly, and that they couldn't possibly ignore a Stinger attack. I thought that I'd probably wake up the next morning to four fat letters full of sympathy and further information on how I was going to see them. And with that (foolhardy) comforting idea in my mind, sleep rolled over me, stifling all further thought.

0000

But Harold didn't return the next morning. The Smiths didn't show up at all. It was like they were trying to forget all about the Stinger attack on Carol altogether. I asked Grandmother Sarafina about the Howler, but she told me that I would fins out one day in the future. I took my horse, Timmy, on a good, long ride (his health was good, just so you know). I watched the news with the volume at a pitch where I didn't have to move my head close to the television in order to hear it. I was well taken care of by Grandmother Sarafina, who insisted that I didn't have to help her with anything.

And so, this went on for three whole days. I was alternately filled with restless energy, that made me unable to settle to anything, during which time (depending on the time of day) I either took my horse for a ride, or I paced my bedroom, furious at the whole lot of them for leaving me to stew in this mess; and with a lethargy, so complete, that no matter where I was or what I was doing, I was near-enough always staring into space, aching with dread at the thought of the Ministry hearing.

Many thoughts went through my head during those days, including worrying questions that I could not answer. What if they ruled against me? What if I _was_ expelled and my wand was snapped in half? What would I do, and where would I go? Would it be possible for my grandmothers and I to live together somewhere? Would I be allowed to choose, seeing as I was underage, or would that choice be made for me by the Ministry? Had my breach of the International Statue of Secrecy been severe enough to land me a cell in Azkaban? Whenever this thought occurred, depending on where I was and what I was doing at the time, I either sped Timmy on to drive that thought out of my head, or I would invariably slide off my bed and pace again.

On the fourth night after Harold's departure, I was lying on my bed, not listening to the sounds below, my mind quite blank, when I heard a knock at the front door. I paid no attention, even though a small voice in my head was curious as to who was calling, for the Smiths hadn't been round for days, and we didn't have any visitors, and I didn't think anyone would be coming to see me. I heard voices from downstairs that were hushed. There was then a brief moment's silence - which was broken by Grandmother Sarafina's voice.

"Kiara, dear, can you come down here, please? There are people here who want to speak with you."

I really wasn't in the mood to see anyone, but I knew that it would be rude for me not to see who it was; so I sighed, picked myself off the bed, took my wand with me (just in case), went to the door, opened it and stepped out onto the landing, looking down into the shadows below me.

My heart shot upwards into my throat. There were people - along with Grandmother Sarafina, I presumed - who were standing in the shadows, silhouetted against the lights from the lounge and the kitchen; eight or nine of them, all, as far as I could see, looking up at me.

"Lower your wand, girl, before you take someone's eye out," said a low, growling voice.

My heart was thumping uncomfortably. I knew that voice, but I did not lower my wand.

"Professor Grumpy?" I said uncertainly.

"I don't know so much about "Professor"," growled the voice, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

I lowered my wand slightly, but I did not relax my grip on it, nor did I move. I had very good reason to be suspicious. I had recently spent nine months in what I thought was Crazy-Head Grumpy's company, only to find out that it wasn't Grumpy at all, but an imposter; an imposter, moreover, who had tried to kill me before being unmasked. But before I made a decision about what my next move was going to be, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

"It's all right, Kiara. We've come to collect you."

My heart leapt. I knew that voice, too, though I hadn't heard it for over a year.

"P-Professor Meers?" I said disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing here in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that would be my fault," said Grandmother Sarafina. "Hang on a second - Sorry - can I just - yes - thank you - Ah, there we go!" she said, as the light for the stairs came on. "Sorry about the old Muggle technology."

"That's all right, Sarafina," Grumpy said, though she didn't look all right with it. "I suppose we all have to resort to Muggle measures sometimes, don't we?" Grandmother Sarafina looked quite upset about this.

"Aoife, you've obviously forgotten that she _is_ a Muggle," the woman who I didn't know said, patting my grandmother sympathetically on the shoulder, before she and the rest of the crowd below looked up at me intently, some of them even craned their necks for a better look.

Timon Meers stood nearest to me. Though still quite young, Meers looked tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs than when I had last said goodbye to him and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at me, and I tried to smile back, despite my state of shock.

"Oooh, she looks just like I thought she would," said the witch I had never met before that moment. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale, oval-shaped face, bright twinkling eyes and short pixie hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Kiara!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Timon," said a black witch with a long sheet of black hair who was stood furthest back - she had a calm, soft, slow voice and wore a single golden hoop in each ear - "she looks exactly like Nala."

"Except for the mouth," said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired witch at the back. "Simba's mouth."

Crazy-Head Grumpy, who had long grizzled grey hair and a large chunk missing from her nose, was squinting suspiciously at me through her six mismatched eyes. The first two eyes (which were in the right place on each side of her nose) were small, dark and beady, whereas the other four were large, round and electric blue, and all four were placed on her forehead - the magical eyes that could see through walls, doors and the back of Grumpy's own head.

"Are you quite sure it's her, Meers?" she growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Love Destroyer impersonating her. We ought to ask her something only the real Kiara Pride-Lander would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Excuse me!" Grandmother Sarafina said, anger radiating from her; many of the crowd below tensed and backed away from my grandmother and Crazy-Head. "Are you suggesting that my granddaughter is an impostor?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Grumpy growled.

"Well, if my granddaughter _was_ an impostor, don't you think I would already be dead by now?" Grandmother Sarafina said indignantly.

Grumpy opened and closed her mouth a few times, obviously thinking of something to say to that, until she turned her head, annoyed, to Meers and barked, "Would you ask her something that only Pride-Lander would know?"

Meers looked taken aback for a moment, before he turned to me and asked, "Kiara, what form does your Patronus take?"

"A lioness," I said nervously.

"That's her, Crazy-Head," said Meers.

I was very conscious of everyone staring at me, so I slowly descended the stairs, stowing my wand in the back pocket of my jeans as I went.

"Don't put your wand there, girl!" roared Grumpy. "What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost buttocks, you know!"

"Who d'you know who's lost a buttock?" the violet-haired woman asked Crazy-Head interestedly.

"Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket!" growled Crazy-Head. "Elementary wand-safety, nobody bothers about it anymore!" She stumped off towards the kitchen. "And I saw that!" she added irritably, as the woman rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

Meers held out his hand and shook mine, before held him in a hug. I felt him stiffen slightly before he hugged me back.

"How are you?" he asked, after we had let go of each other, looking at me closely.

"F-fine ..."

I couldn't believe it! I kept thinking that this wasn't real. I had spent the past four weeks with nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to take me to where my friends and family were, and suddenly a whole bunch of wizards were standing matter-of-factly in the cottage as though this was a long-standing arrangement. I glanced at the people surrounding Meers; they were all gazing avidly at me. I was very self conscious of the fact that my hair looked like a haystack.

"I'm - wow, I'm really glad you're here," I mumbled.

"So you should be!" said the violet-haired woman. "Crighton finally decided to get this thing done a few days ago, even though some of us have been persuading her to let someone bring you to us for some time now. Anyhoo, Crighton has finally agreed that it's time, and that's why we're all here."

"We are leaving, aren't we?" I asked. "Soon?"

"Almost at once," said Meers, ""we just have to settle a few things and wait for the all-clear before we go."

"Where are we going? Dawson Manor?" I asked hopefully.

"Not Dawson Manor, no," said Meers, who motioned me towards the kitchen; the little knot of wizards followed, who were still all eyeing me curiously. "Too risky. We've just set up Headquarters somewhere undetectable. It's taken a while ..."

Crazy-Head Grumpy was sat at the kitchen table swigging from a hipflask, her magical eyes spinning in all directions, taking in my grandmothers many labour-saving appliances.

"This is Aoife Grumpy, Kiara" Meers continued, pointing towards Grumpy.

"Yes, I know," I said uncomfortably. I felt odd to be introduced to someone I'd thought I'd known for a year.

"And this is Nanna - "

" _Don't_ call me Nanna, Timon," said the young witch with a shudder, "it's Todd."

"Nanna Todd, who prefers to be known by her surname only," finished Meers.

"So would you be if your fool of a mother called you _Nanna_ ," muttered Todd.

"And this is Kara Shackles." He indicated the tall black witch, who curtseyed. "Ellie Dodge." The wheezy-voiced witch nodded. "Delilah Doddle - "

"We've met before," squeaked the excitable Doddle, dropping her velvet-covered witch's hat.

"Emmett Vann." A stately-looking wizard wearing an emerald green scarf inclined his head. "Sakura Peak."A square-jawed witch with thick straw-coloured hair winked. "And Hedley Josephs." A ruddy-faced, black haired wizard smiled at me from next to the toaster.

I inclined my head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. I wished they would look at something other than myself; it was as though I had suddenly been ushered on-stage. I also wondered why so many of them were there.

"A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you," said Meers, as though he had read my mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.

"Yeah, well, the more the better," said Grumpy darkly. "We're your guard, Pride-Lander."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to set off," said Meers, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes."

"You're very _clean_ for a Muggle, Sarafina," said the witch called Todd, who looked around the kitchen with great interest. "My dad's Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. I suppose it varies, just as it does with wizards?"

"Well, I suppose it does," said Grandmother Sarafina, not quite sure what to make of Todd's comment. "We like to make our home nice enough to live in, of course. That's why it's so clean. What do you think of Todd's comment, Kiara?"

"Er - sure, I guess," I said. "Look - " I turned back to Meers, "what's going on, I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Zi - ?"

Several of the witches and wizards made odd hissing noises; Delilah Doddle dropped her hat again and Grumpy growled, _"Shut up!"_

"What?" I said.

"We're not discussing anything here, it's too risky," said Grumpy, her normal eyes on me. Her magical eyes were all focused on the ceiling. _"Damn it,"_ she added angrily, putting her hands up to her magical eyes, "they keep getting stuck - ever since that scum wore them."

And with four nasty squelching sounds, much like four plungers being pulled from four sinks, she pushed out her four eyes, one by one. Without the eyes placed on her forehead, I saw the skin beneath, which was sunken and dented for each eye, and surprisingly the skin was brown, cracked and dry; Grumpy apparently put some potion or other in the dents every night before she went to sleep in order to keep the skin fresh so that the eyes could work better, I suppose.

"Crazy-Head, you do know that's disgusting, don't you?" said Todd conversationally.

"Sarafina, Kiara, get me four glasses of water, would you?" Grumpy requested.

Grandmother Sarafina and I crossed to the dishwasher, took out four clean glasses and filled each one with water at the sink, where we - well, more like myself - were watched eagerly by the band of wizards. Their relentless staring was starting to annoy me. Anyhoo, Grandmother Sarafina and I took two glasses each over to Grumpy.

"Cheers," she said, when Grandmother Sarafina and I handed her the glasses. Grumpy then deposited each eyeball into each glass, and started to prod each one up and down equally; one by one, each eye whizzed around, staring at us all in turn. "I want three hundred and sixty degrees visibility on the return journey."

"How're we getting - wherever we're going?" I asked.

"Brooms," said Meers. "Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be watching the Floo Network and it's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorised Portkey."

"Timon says you're a good flier," said Kara Shackles in her soft voice.

"She's excellent," said Meers, who was checking his watch. "Anyway, you'd better get packed, Kiara, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," said Todd brightly.

She followed me back up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

"Funny place," she said. "It's a bit _too_ clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. Oh, this is better," she added, as we entered my bedroom and I turned on the light.

My room was certainly messier than the rest of the house. Being practically confined to it for four days in a very bad mood (completely of my own free will, of course), I had not bothered to tidy up after myself. Most of the books I then owned were strewn over the floor where I'd tried to distract myself with each in turn and thrown it aside; Harold's cage needed cleaning out and was starting to smell; and my trunk lay open, revealing a jumbled mixture of Muggle clothes and wizards' robes that had spilled on to the floor round it.

I started to pick up my books and threw them hastily into my trunk. Todd paused at my mirror in the left-hand farther corner of my room, looking curiously at her reflection.

"You know, I don't think violet's really my colour," she said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair. "D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"Er - " I said, as I looked up at her over the top of _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland_.

"Yeah, it does," said Todd decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something. A second later, her hair had turned bubble-gum pink.

"How did you do that?" I said, gaping at her as she opened her eyes again.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. "It means I can change my appearance at will," she added, spotting my puzzled expression in the mirror behind her. "I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"That's so cool that you can - wait, you're an Auror?" I said, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard-catcher was the only career I'd ever considered after Dragon Mort.

"Yeah," said Todd, looking proud. "Kara is as well, she's a bit better than me, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me knock into your kitchen table downstairs when we arrived?"

"Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?" I asked her, straightening up, my packing completely forgotten.

Todd chuckled.

"Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?"

Her eyes found the flame-shaped scar on my forehead.

"No, I wouldn't mind," I mumbled, turning away. I did not like people staring at my scar (and I still don't, by the way, so please, when you see me, please don't do it, because it will help me out a lot. Thank you.).

"Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid," said Todd. "Metamorphmagi are really rare, they're born, not made. Most wizards need a wand, or potions, to change their appearance. But we've got to get going, Kiara, we're supposed to be packing," she added guiltily, looking around at all the mess on the floor.

"Oh - yeah," I said, grabbing a few more books.

"Don't be stupid, it'll be far quicker if I - _pack_!" cried Todd, waving her wand in a long, sweeping movement over the floor.

Books, clothes, telescope and scales all soared into the air and fell pell-mell into the trunk.

"It's not very neat," said Todd, walking over to the trunk and looking down at the jumble inside. "My mum's got this knack of getting stuff to fit inside it neatly - she even gets socks to fold themselves - but I've never mastered how she does it - it's a kind of flick - " She flicked her wand hopefully.

One of my socks gave a feeble sort of wiggle and flopped back on top of the mess in the trunk.

"Ah, well," said Todd, slamming the trunk's lid shut, "at least it's all in. That could do with a bit of cleaning, too." She pointed her wand at Harold's cage. _"Scourgify."_ A few feathers and droppings vanished. "Well, that's a bit better - I've never quite got the hang of these householdy sort of spells. Right - got everything? Cauldron? Cauldron? Broom? Wow! - A _Firecracker?_ "

Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in my right hand. It was (once) my pride and joy, a gift from my parents, an international-standard broomstick.

"And I'm still riding a Comet Two Eighty," said Todd enviously. "Ah well ... wand still in your jeans? Both buttocks still on? OK, let's go. _Locomotor trunk._ "

My trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, Todd made the trunk hover across the room and our of the door ahead of us, Harold's cage in her left hand. I followed her down the stairs carrying my broomstick.

Back in the kitchen, Grumpy had replaced her eyes, which were spinning so fast after their cleanings that it made me feel sick just looking at them, so I looked around to see what the others were doing: Kara Shackles and Sakura Peak were examining the microwave and Hedley Josephs was laughing at a potato peeler he had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Grandmother Sarafina looked at them all nervously, not knowing what to do or say to all the wizards in the room - but as soon as she saw me, she looked relieved, as did Meers.

"Excellent," he said, as Todd and I entered. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Kiara, I've just been telling Sarafina here not to worry, that you'll be safe, and you'll hopefully see her before you see her again next summer."

"That you will, my dear. Come here," said Grandmother Sarafina, holding out her arms and embracing me. "Oooh, I'm going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too, Grandmother," I said, as we let go. "I'll write to you, if you want?"

"Oh, that's all right, Kiara. I'll get all the news from Sarabi, never fear." She then kissed my cheek, waved to the others and went upstairs.

As soon as she was gone, Grumpy beckoned me to her and said gruffly, "Come here, girl. I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" I said nervously.

"Disillusionment Charm," said Grumpy, raising her wand. "Meers says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go - "

She rapped me hard on top of the head and I felt a curious sensation as though Grumpy had just smashed an egg there; I felt like cold trickles were running down my body from the point where the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Crazy-Head," said Todd appreciatively, staring at my midriff.

I looked down at my body, or rather, what had been my body, for it didn't look anything like mine anymore. . It was not invisible; it had simply taken on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind me. I seemed to have become a human chameleon.

"Come on," Grumpy said, opening the back door.

We all stepped outside on to my grandmothers' beautifully kept lawn.

"Clear night," grunted Grumpy, her magical eyes scanning the heavens. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," she barked at me, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Todd'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Meers'll be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed - "

"Is that likely?" I asked apprehensively, but Grumpy ignored me.

" - the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Kiara, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Crazy-Head, she'll think we're not taking this seriously," said Todd, as she strapped my trunk and Harold's cage into a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the girl the plan," growled Grumpy. "Our job's to deliver her safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt - "

"No one's going to die," said Kara Shackles in her soft, calming voice.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" said Meers sharply, pointing at the sky.

Far, far above us, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. I recognised them at once as wand sparks. I swung my right leg over my Firecracker, gripped its handle tightly and felt it vibrating very slightly as though it was as keen as I was to be up in the air once more.

"Second signal, let's go!" said Meers loudly as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above us.

I kicked off hard from the ground. The cool night air rushed through my hair as the neat square gardens of my village fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks, and every thought of the Ministry hearing was swept from my mind as though the rush of air had blown it out of my head. I felt as though my heart was going to explode with pleasure; I was flying again. Sure, I felt sad about flying away from my home, but on the bright side, I was flying to where my best friends in the world were ... for a few glorious moments, all of my problems seemed to recede to nothing, insignificant in the vast, starry sky.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" shouted Grumpy from behind me. Todd swerved and I followed her, watching my trunk swishing wildly beneath her broom. "We need more height ... give it another quarter of a mile!"

My eyes were watering in the chill as we soared upwards; I saw nothing below me but the tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps. I laughed with glee at the thought of flying again, though my voice was drowned by the flapping robes of the others, the creaking of the harness holding my trunk and the cage, and the whoosh of the wind in our ears as we sped through the air. I had not felt that alive within that month, or that happy.

"Bearing south!" shouted Crazy-Head. "Tower ahead!"

We soared right to avoid passing directly over the glittering spider's web of light below.

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead that we can lose ourselves in!" called Grumpy.

"We're not going through the cloud!" shouted Todd angrily, "we'll get soaked, Crazy-Head!"

I was relieved to hear her say that; my hands were growing numb on the Firecracker's handle. I wished that I had thought to put on a jacket; I was starting to shiver.

We altered our course every now and then according to Crazy-Head's instructions. My eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that made my ears start to ache; I remembered feeling that cold on a broom only once before, during the Quidditch match against Badger-Stripes in my third year, which had taken place in a storm. The guard around me was circling continuously like giant birds of prey. I lost track of time. I felt like we had been flying for an hour at least, when I started to wonder what the time was.

"Turning southwest!" yelled Grumpy. "We want to avoid the motorway!"

I was so chilled to the bone by now that I thought longingly of the snug, dry interiors of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of travelling by Floo powder; it might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but it was at least warm in the flames ... Kara Shackles swooped around me, long black hair and earrings gleaming slightly in the moonlight ... now Emmett Vann was on my right, his wand out, his head turning left and right ... then he, too, swooped over me, to be replaced by Sakura Peak ...

"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Grumpy shouted.

"ARE YOU CRAZY, CRAZY-HEAD?" Todd screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off-course, we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!"

"Time to start the descent!" came Meers' voice. "Follow Todd, Kiara!"

I followed Todd into a dive. It was very dark where we dived, but judging from the dark black shadows around us (and the amount of branches that whipped across my face), we were landing in the middle of a forest. I wanted to reach the ground very much, though I was certain that someone was going to have to unfreeze me from my broom.

"Here we go!" called Todd, and a few seconds later she had landed.

I touched down right behind her and dismounted on a clumpy patch of earth, which turned out to be a tree root. I looked around. In the light from the wands that some of the wizards had lit, I saw that Todd was already unbuckling my trunk, but this was not all. I saw that we were secluded behind a very large bush, and in front of us were a lot of trees that were stood close together.

"Where are we?" I asked, but Meers said quietly, "In a minute."

I saw Grumpy's eyes narrowed in suspicion, as her four magical ones spun around uncontrollably; I think she was scanning the area to see if there was anyone suspicious - both Muggle or wizard - around. Apparently there was not.

"No one around except us," Grumpy growled. "Come on now, quick, before anyone actually does come!"

She took me by the arm and dragged me forward, making sure that the big bush and the trees on either side covered us from sight, as we went towards the great cluster of trees knotted closely together in front of us; Meers and Todd followed, carrying my trunk between them, the rest of the guard, all with their wands out, flanking us.

All was still. Nothing moved. Even the birds were quiet. There was a strange buzz in the air - a sort of electrical buzz - like there was a secret source of magic was hidden close by. There was also the smell of the woods in the air that you couldn't find anywhere else; the smell of fresh earth and the strange aroma that only came from tree bark and leaves.

"Here," Grumpy muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards my Disillusioned hand and holding her lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. "Read quietly and memorise."

I looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:

 _The Headquarters of the Order of the Centaur my be found at Proud Woodland's End, King's Wood, Challock._

 **AN: I'm sorry this chapter took so long, the next one will be ready by Wednesday and Thursday. That I promise you.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Proud Woodland's End**

 **KIARA**

"What's the Order of the - ?" I began.

"Not here, girl!" snarled Grumpy. "Wait 'til we're inside!"

She pulled the piece of parchment out of my hand and set fire to it with her wand-tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, I looked around at the cluster of trees in front of us again. Nothing happened.

"But where's - ?"

"Think about what you've just memorised," said Meers quietly.

I thought, and no sooner had I reached the part about Proud Woodland's End, than a lot of creaking and cracking sounds were heard from the cluster of trees in front of us; they merged together and grew more - not taller, but wider - and the trees made a large, wooden house, with windows and a door made of a sturdy bark, a strong canopy of leaves for its roof, and I could see a garage on the right-hand side. I gasped at it, and all around me, nothing had changed. No birds had flown from their nests in shock, and no wind blew.

"Come on, hurry," growled grumpy, who prodded me in the back to make me move.

I walked up the sturdy tree root steps, staring at the newly materialised door. It looked like dark bark in the shape of a door, with the same coloured and textured doorknocker, which was in the form of a twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or letterbox.

Meers pulled out his wand and tapped the door once. I heard many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain. The door creaked open.

"Get in quick, Kiara," Meers whispered, "but don't go too far inside, and don't touch anything."

I stepped over the threshold into the almost total darkness of the hall. I smelt damp, dust and the old, musty smell of the earth; the place had the feeling of a derelict building made from the earth. The ground beneath my feet felt lumpy and bumpy. I looked over my shoulder and saw the others filing in behind me, Meers and Todd carrying my trunk and Harold's cage. Grumpy was the last person to walk inside and closed the front door, so that the darkness in the hall became complete.

"Here - "

She rapped me hard over the head with her wand; I felt as though something hard had trickled down my back that time, and I knew that the Disillusionment Charm must have lifted.

"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit of light in here," Grumpy whispered.

The others' hushed voiced were giving me an odd feeling of foreboding; it was as though we had just entered the house of a dying person. I heard a soft hissing noise and then old-fashioned gas lamps sputtered into life all along the walls, casting a flickering insubstantial light over the peeling bark and the scattered little twigs, which was the carpet over the lumpy, tree-rooted floor of a long, gloomy hallway, where a cobwebby silver chandelier glimmered overhead and age-blackened portraits hung crooked on the walls. I heard something scuttling behind the skirting board, and I hoped it was not termites. Both the silver chandelier and the silver candelabra on a rickety table nearby were shaped like serpents.

There were hurried footsteps and my dear grandmother Sarabi emerged from a door at the far end of the hall. She beamed in welcome as she hurried towards us, though I noticed that she was slightly thinner and paler than she had been the last time I had seen her.

"Oh, Kiara, I'm so happy to see you!" she whispered, pulling me into a rib-cracking hug before holding me at arm's length and examining me critically. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit before dinner, I'm afraid."

She turned to the gang of wizards behind me and whispered urgently, "She's just arrived, the meeting's started."

The wizards behind me all made noises of interest and excitement and began filing past me towards the door through which Grandmother Sarabi had just come through. I made to follow Meers, but Grandmother Sarabi held me back.

"No, Kiara, the meeting's only for members of the Order. Chris, Sian and Chrissie are upstairs, you can wait with them until the meeting's over, then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall," she added in an urgent whisper.

"Why?"

"I don't want anything to wake up."

"What d'you - ?"

"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting - I'll just show you where you're sleeping."

Pressing her finger to her lips, she led me on tiptoe past a pair of moth-eaten curtains, behind which I presumed that there must be another door, and after skirting a large umbrella stand that looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg, we started up the dark staircase, passing a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. A closer look showed me that the heads belonged to house-elves. All of them had the same rather snout-like nose.

My bewilderment deepened with every step I took. I wondered what on earth we were doing in a house that looked as though it belonged to the Darkest of wizards?

"Grandmother Sarabi, why - ?"

"Chris, Sian and Chrissie will explain everything, sweetie, I've really got to dash," Grandmother Sarabi whispered distractedly. "There - " we had reached the second landing, " - you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over."

She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before she hurried off downstairs again.

I crossed the dingy landing, turned the bedroom doorknob, which was shaped like a serpent's head, and opened the door.

I caught a brief glimpse of a high-ceilinged, twin-bedded room; there was a loud twittering noise, followed by an even louder gasp, and then my vision was obscured by a large quantity of long, very dark brown hair, which curled inwardly at the ends. Sian had dashed forward and hugged me very tightly, almost like a mother would, while Chris and Chrissie's owls, Cattonia and Piggledon, zoomed excitedly round and round our heads.

"KIARA! Chris, Chrissie, she's here, Kiara's here! We didn't hear you arrive! Oh, how are you? Are you all right? Have you been furious with us? I bet you have, I know our letters were useless - but we couldn't tell you anything, Ma made us swear we wouldn't, oh, we've got so much to tell you, and you've got things to tell us - the Stingers! When we heard - and that Ministry hearing - it's just outrageous, I've looked it all up, they can't expel you, they just can't, there's provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery for the use of magic in life-threatening situations - "

"Let her breathe, Sian!" said Chris, grinning as he got to his feet, walked across the room and closed the door behind me. He seemed to have grown a few more inches during our month apart, making him much taller - almost as tall as Sian - though the long nose and light brown hair were still the same. Sian and Chrissie seemed to have stopped growing.

"Yeah, at least let her get her thoughts together, before you go ranting off on one, sister," said Chrissie, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at Sian, as Sian herself, still beaming, let me go. As Sian stepped back, Chris came closer to me, wearing a crooked smile (which was new to me back then, and I liked it, and still do), and looked at me with eyes full of adoration and, if I wasn't much mistaken, something like love (although back then I was doubtful of it). I was quite taken aback by this look - and even more so by his hug that he gave me, which was filled with so much love and protection that I was overwhelmed by it, but I hugged him back soon, nonetheless. When we broke apart, his face was flushed and he looked slightly embarrassed, for he wouldn't meet my eyes. I would have thought about this more, if Chrissie hadn't run over and almost knocked me to the floor, which would have happened if I hadn't told her that my centre of gravity was off balance, which made her lean back a bit. After Chrissie and I had let go of each other, and before anyone could say anything, there was a soft whooshing sound and something white soared from the top of a dark wardrobe and landed gently on my shoulder.

"Harold!"

The snowy owl clicked his beak and nibbled my ear affectionately as I stroked his feathers.

"He's been in a right state," said Chris. "Pecked us half to death when he brought your last letters, look at this - "

He showed me the index finger of his right hand, which sported a half-healed but clearly deep cut.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Sorry about that, but I wanted answers, you know - "

"We wanted to give them to you, Kiara," said Chrissie. "Sian was going spare, she kept saying you'd do something stupid if you were stuck all on your own without news, but Ma made us - "

" - swear not to tell me," I said. "Yeah, Sian's already said."

The warm glow that had flared inside me at the sight of my three best friends was extinguished as something icy flooded in the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden - after yearning to see them for a solid month - I felt that I would rather have had Chris, Sian and Chrissie left me alone.

There was a strained silence in which I stroked Harold automatically, not looking at the others.

"She seemed to think it was for the best," said Sian rather breathlessly. "Ma, I mean."

"Right," I said. I noticed that her hands, and Chrissie's too, bore the marks of Harold's beak, but I found that at that moment that I was not at all sorry.

"I think she thought you were safest with Sarafina - " Chris began.

"Yeah?" I said, raising my eyebrows. "Have any of _you_ been attacked by Stingers this summer?"

"Well, no - " said Chrissie, " - but that's why Ma's had people from the Order of the Centaur tailing you all the time - "

I felt a great jolt in my gut as though I had just missed a step going downstairs when I heard those words. So everyone had known I was being followed except me, did they? Perfect! _Just_ what I wanted to know!

"Didn't work that well, though, did it?" I said, doing my utmost to keep my voice calm. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"

"She was so angry," said Sian, in an almost awestruck voice. "Ma. We saw her. When she found out Mona had left before her shift ended. She was scary. Mind you, we were all angry about that, especially Sarabi, Simba and Nala. Boy, none of us wanted to be in a room with them once they started yelling."

"Well, I'm glad Mona left," I said coldly. "If she hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic, and Crighton would probably have left me at my grandmothers' cottage all summer."

"Aren't you ... aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?" said Sian quietly.

"No," I lied defiantly. I walked away from them, looking around, with Harold nestled contentedly on my shoulder, but this room was not likely to raise my spirits. It was dank and dark. A blank stretch of canvas in an ornate picture frame was all that relieved the bareness of the peeling bark walls, and as I passed it, I thought I heard someone, who was lurking out of sight, snigger.

"So, why's your mother been so keen to keep me in the dark?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, but I could tell it was a losing battle. "Did you - er - bother to ask her at all?"

I glanced up just in time to see them exchanging looks that told me I was behaving just as they feared I would, and if they thought this would help to improve my temper, they thought wrong.

"We told Ma we wanted to tell you what was going on," said Chris. "We did. But she's really busy right now, we've only seen her twice since we came here and she didn't have much time, she just told us not to write important stuff when we wrote. She said the owls might be intercepted. True, Sian has spent a little more time with her than we have, but still Ma doesn't tell her much. You can trust us on this because Sian tells us everything she hears from Ma. Doesn't she, Chrissie?"

"That she does," said Chrissie eagerly, but that did not change how angry I was.

"She could still've kept me informed if she'd wanted to," I said shortly. "You're not telling me she doesn't know ways to send messages without owls?"

Sian glanced at Chris and Chrissie and then said, "I thought that, too. But she didn't want you to know _anything_."

"Maybe she thinks I can't be trusted," I said, watching their expressions.

"Don't be stupid," said Chris, looking highly disconcerted.

"Or that I can't take care of myself."

"Of course she doesn't think like that!" said Chrissie anxiously.

"Ma doesn't think either of those things about you, Kiara!" said Sian, looking earnestly at me.

"So how come I've had to stay at my grandmothers' cottage while you three get to join in on everything that's going on here?" I said, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, my voice growing louder with every word. "How come you three are allowed to know everything that's going on?"

"We're not!" Chris interrupted. "Sarabi won't let us near the meetings, she says we're too young - "

Before I knew it, I was shouting.

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAVEN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT MY GRANDMOTHERS' COTTAGE FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU THREE'VE EVER MANAGED AND CRIGHTON KNOWS IT - WHO SAVED THE MIRROR OF WISHSES? WHO GOT RID OF MALIAY? WHO SAVED YOUR SKINS FROM THE STINGERS?"

Every bitter and resentful thought I had had in the past month poured out of me; my frustration at the lack of news, the hurt that they had all been together without me, my fury at being followed and not being told about it - all the feelings I was half-ashamed of finally burst their boundaries. Harold took fright at the noise and soared off to the top of the wardrobe again; Cattonia and Piggledon both twittered in alarm and zoomed even faster around our heads.

"WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW _HER_ COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HER? ME!"

Chris was standing there with his mouth half-open, clearly stunned and at a loss for anything to say, Chrissie was shaking and looked terrified, whilst Sian was looking at me calmly, but her eyes were full of concern for me.

"BUT WHY SHOULD I KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON? WHY SHOULD ANYONE BOTHER TO TELL ME WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING?"

"Kiara, we wanted to tell you, we really did - " Sian began, but I was having none of it.

"CAN'T'VE WANTED TO THAT MUCH, CAN YOU, OR YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AN OWL, BUT _CRIGHTON MADE YOU SWEAR_ \- "

"Well, she did - "

"FOUR WEEKS I'VE BEEN STUCK IN MY GRANDMOTHERS' COTTAGE, NICKING PAPERS OUT OF BINS TO TRY AND FIND OUT WHAT'S BEEN GOING ON - "

"We wanted to - "

"I SUPPOSE YOU'VE BEEN HAVING A REAL LAUGH, HAVEN'T YOU, ALL HOLED UP HERE TOGETHER - "

"No, honest - "

"Kiara, we're really sorry!" said Sian desperately, looking at me earnestly to calm down. "You've got every right to be angry with us - I know I would be if I was in your shoes."

I glared at her, still breathing deeply, then turned away from them again, pacing up and down. Harold hooted glumly from the top of the wardrobe. There was a long pause, broken only by the mournful creak of the floorboards below my feet.

"What _is_ this place, anyway?" I shot at Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"Headquarters for the Order of the Centaur," said Chrissie at once.

"Is anyone going to bother to tell me what the Order of the Centaur - ?"

"It's a secret society," said Sian quickly. "Ma's in charge, she founded it. It's the people who fought against She-You-Know last time."

"How come it's called the Order of the Centaur?" I asked. "I thought it would be the Order of the Phoenix, seeing as your mother's Patronus is one, and she has a pet phoenix and all."

"Well, Albus Dumbledore used the Order of the Phoenix for the name of his organisation for those who fought Lord Voldemort, so that's why this one's called the Order of the Centaur," Sian answered.

"Who's in this Order of the Centaur, then?" I said, coming to a halt with my hands in my pockets.

"Quite a few people - "

"Yeah, and a few of them are quite keen to see you, too - "

"We've met about twenty of them," said Chrissie, "but we think there are more."

I glared at them.

 _"Well?"_ I demanded, looking from one to the other.

"Er," said Chrissie. "Well, what?"

 _"Zira!"_ I said furiously, and Chris, Sian and Chrissie all winced. "What's happening? What's she up to? Where is she? What are we doing to stop her?"

"We've _told_ you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings," said Sian nervously. "So we don't know the details - but we've got a general idea," she added hastily, seeing the look on my face.

"Tanya and Geri have been inventing these Electronic Ears, see," said Chrissie. "They're really useful."

"Electronic - ?"

"Ears, yeah. You see, Fred and George Weasley invented these Extendable Ears for their joke shop, but Tanya and Geri are putting their own twist on them."

"And what's the twist, exactly?"

"From what we can tell, they're using Muggle hearing aids and are using the same technique that wizards use to turn an ordinary Muggle radio into a wizarding wireless. They're also fitted with a transmitter so that you can focus on the length of distance that you want to hear, and the also have an in-built intruder alarm, so that whoever's using them is warned if someone's coming, so we can turn them off and hide them quickly. Unfortunately for us, though, we've had to stop using them lately because Sarabi found out and went berserk. Tanya and Geri had to hide them all to stop Sarabi burning them. But we got a good bit of use out of them before Sarabi realised what was going on - "

"Wait a second - Sian, you're OK with this?" I asked her, unsure of what she felt about this. "I mean, last time you heard about Tanya and Geri's ideas, you weren't pleased with them, were you?"

"No, I wasn't. But, after seeing what they've come up with so far, I have to admit that they're brilliant," Sian said, shrugging. I was surprised, but I quickly got over it, as I turned back to Chrissie.

"Anyway," Chrissie continued, "we know some of the Order are following known Love Destroyers, keeping tabs on them, you know - "

"Some of them are working on recruiting more people to the Order - " said Sian.

"And some of them are standing guard over something," said Chris. "They're always talking about guard duty."

"Couldn't be me, could it?" I said sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah," said Chrissie, with a look of dawning comprehension.

I snorted. I walked around the room again, looking anywhere but at Chris, Sian and Chrissie. "So, what have you three been doing, if you're not allowed in meetings?" I demanded. "You said you'd been busy."

"We have," said Sian quickly. "We've been decontaminating this house, it's been empty for ages and stuff's been breeding in here. We've managed to clean out the kitchen, most of the bedrooms and I think we're doing the drawing room tomo - OH! Jeeze, Lou- _Freakin'_ -uise!"

With two loud cracks, Tanya and Geri Fang, the Dawsons' cousins, had materialised out of thin air in the middle of the room. Cattonia and Piggledon twittered more wildly than ever and zoomed off to join Harold on top of the wardrobe.

"Stop _doing_ that!" Sian said weakly to the twins, who were as vividly brown-haired and Chrissie, though stockier and slightly shorter.

"Hello, Kiara," said Geri, beaming at me. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."

"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Kiara, let it out," said Tanya, also beaming. "There might be a couple fifty miles away who didn't hear you."

"You two passed your Apparition tests, then?" I said grumpily.

"With distinction," said Tanya, who was holding a small box in her hand.

"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," said Chrissie.

"Time is Galleons, cous," said Tanya. "Anyway, Kiara, you're interfering with reception. Electronic Ears," she added in response to my raised eyebrows, and held up the box as well as taking out a little device out of her ear, which I saw was a hearing aid. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."

"You want to be careful," said Chris, staring at both the box and the hearing aid, "if Sarabi sees one of them again ..."

"It's worth the risk, that's a major meeting they're having," said Tanya.

"Er, why is a button on the box flashing red?" I asked Tanya, looking at the box.

Tanya and Geri looked confused, but when they looked at the box, on which was a big red flashing button, they panicked, and were arguing about where they should hide it silently, as the button flashed faster and faster, which I assumed meant that the person, or people, who were coming were getting closer and closer. In the end, the twins sat down on the bed (which I later learned was Chrissie's - although why Cattonia was there, I still do not know), with the Electronic Ear hidden behind them, as the door slowly creaked open -

But the twins breathed sighs of relief as three girls with long, very dark brown hair entered.

"Oh, hello, Kiara!" said Chris, Sian and Chrissie's youngest sister Merida brightly to me as she, Beth and Kestrel entered. "We thought we heard your voice."

Turning to Tanya and Geri, Merida said, "It's no-go with the Electronic Ears, Sarabi's gone and put a Silencing Charm on the kitchen door."

"How d'you know?" said Geri, looking crestfallen.

"Todd told me how to find out," said Merry. "You just listen very hard at the door and if you can't hear anything, that means there's a Silencing Charm on it. Beth, Kest and I have been listening quietly outside it for about five minutes now, and we can't hear anything from in there."

Tanya heaved a great sigh.

"Shame. I really fancied finding out what old Triphorm's been up to."

"Triphorm!" I said quickly. "Is she here?"

"Yeah," said Geri, carefully closing the door and sitting down on one of the beds; Tanya, Beth, Kestrel and Merida followed. "Giving a report. Top secret."

"Cow," said Tanya idly.

"She's on our side now," said Sian reprovingly.

Chrissie snorted. "Doesn't stop her being a cow. The way she looks at us when she sees us."

"Sam doesn't like her, either," said Merry, as though this settled the matter.

I was not sure my anger had abated yet; but my thirst for information was overcoming my urge to keep shouting. I sank on to the same bed as Chris, Sian and Chrissie, which was opposite to where the others were sat.

"Is Sam here?" I asked. "I thought she was working in Egypt?"

"She applied for a desk job so she could come home and work for the Order," said Tanya. "She says she misses the tombs, but," she smirked, "there are compensations."

"What d'you mean?"

"Remember old Ferdinand Desjardin?" said Geri. "He's got a job at Fauntrotts to _eemprove 'is Eenglish_ \- "

"And Sam's been giving him a lot of private lessons," sniggered Tanya.

"Kat's in the Order, too," said Geri, "but she's still in Romania. Aunt Sue wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Kat's trying to make contacts on her days off."

"Couldn't Perdy do that?" I asked. The last I had heard, the third Fang sister was working in the Department of International Magical Co-operation at the Ministry of Magic.

At my words, the Fang twins and most of the Dawsons exchanged darkly significant looks. Sian, however, had her fists clenched, and had her eyes narrowed angrily.

"Whatever you do, Kiara, do not mention Perdy in this house any more," said Sian slowly, in a very tense voice.

"Why not?"

"Because every time Perdy's name's mentioned, Uncle Matt breaks whatever he's holding and Sian reacts exactly like this," Tanya said.

"It's been awful," said Kestrel sadly.

"I think we're well shot of her," said Geri, with an uncharacteristically ugly look on her face.

"What's happened?" I said.

"Perdy and Uncle Matt had a row," said Tanya. "None of us have ever seen Uncle Matt row with anyone like that. It's normally Sian here who shouts."

"Aww, you're too kind, cousin," Sian said teasingly. Everyone in the room laughed at that, even me.

"Anyway, it was the first week back after term ended," said Chris. "We were about to come and join the Order. Perdy came home and told us she'd been promoted."

"You're kidding?" I said.

Though I knew perfectly well that Perdy was highly ambitious, my impression was that Perdy had not made a great success of her first job at the Ministry of Magic. Perdy had committed the fairly large oversight of failing to notice that her boss was being controlled by Lady Zira (not that the Ministry had believed it - they all thought Mrs Clutch had gone mad).

"Yeah, we were all surprised," said Geri, "because Perdy got into a load of trouble about Clutch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Perdy ought to have realised Clutch was off her rocker and informed a superior. But you know Perdy, Clutch left her in charge, she wasn't going to complain."

"So how come they promoted her?"

"That's exactly what we wondered," said Chrissie, who seemed very keen to keep normal conversation now that I had stopped yelling. "She came home really pleased with herself - even more pleased than usual, if you can imagine that - and told Dad she'd been offered a position in Sweets' own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Dragon Mort: Junior Assistant to the Minister. She expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."

"But he wasn't," said Tanya.

"Why not?" I said.

"Well, apparently Sweets has been storming round the Ministry, checking that nobody's having any contact with Aunt Sue," said Geri.

"Aunt Sue's name is mud at the Ministry these days, see," said Tanya. "They all think she's making trouble by saying She-You-Know's back."

"Uncle Matt says Sweets has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Aunt Sue can clear out their desks," said Geri.

"But Mr Dawson and Crighton are married - " I began, confused.

"That's just it, Kiara," Tanya said. "Because they're married, Sweets is convinced that Uncle Matt and Aunt Sue are being a happy, close couple, but Uncle Matt is telling Sweets that their relationship is a strained one, but Uncle Matt says that Sweets isn't buying what he's saying. And besides that, Sweets has always thought of Uncle Matt as a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession, despite him being an Auror."

"But what's that got to do with Perdy?" I asked, confused once more.

"I'm coming to that. Uncle Matt reckons Sweets only wants Perdy in her office because she wants to use her to spy on her family - especially Aunt Sue - "

I let out a low whistle.

"Bet Perdy loved that."

Chris laughed in a hollow sort of way.

"She went completely berserk. She said - well, she said loads of terrible stuff. She said she's been having to struggle against Uncle Matt's weird stuff about Muggles ever since she joined the Ministry and that Uncle Matt's done nothing really to protect his family, and that's why Sian's always been - you know - "

 _"What?"_ I said in disbelief, as the Dawsons looked at each other darkly. Chrissie, Beth and Kestrel shook their heads, and Sian made a noise like an angry cat.

"I know," said Chrissie in a low voice. "And it got worse. Perdy said that Dad was an idiot for marrying Ma, that Ma was heading for big trouble and Dad was going to go down with her, and that she - Perdy - knew where her loyalty lay and it was with the Ministry. And if Ma and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry, she was going to make sure everyone knew she didn't belong to our family anymore. And she packed her bags the same night and left. She's living in London now."

I didn't say anything, but many angry thoughts buzzed around my head. I had always liked Perdy least of all the Dawsons' cousins, but I had never imagined that she would say such things to Mr Dawson.

"I've not been taking it too well, actually," said Sian, looking uncomfortable. "I always assumed that family's always come first in Perdy's case, but apparently I was mistaken. I'm not bothering to visit her, though. Until she admits that she's wrong and apologises for what she said about my parents, then I'll be perfectly fine with speaking to her again."

"But Perdy _must_ know Zira's back," I said slowly. "She's not stupid, she must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof."

"Yeah, well, your name got dragged into the row," said Chris, shooting me a furtive look. "Perdy said the only evidence was your word and ... I dunno ... she didn't think it was good enough."

"Perdy takes the _Daily Squabbler_ seriously," said Sian tartly, and the others all nodded.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, looking around at them all. They were regarding me warily.

"Haven't - haven't you been getting the _Daily Squabbler_?" Sian asked nervously.

"Yeah, I have!" I said.

"Have you - er - been reading it thoroughly?" Sian asked, still more anxiously.

"Not cover to cover," I said defensively. "If they were going to report anything about Zira it would be headline news, wouldn't it?"

The others flinched at the sound of the name. Sian hurried on, "Well, you'd need to read it cover to cover to pick it up, but they - um - they mention you a couple of times a week."

"But I'd have seen - "

"Not if you've only been reading the front page, you wouldn't," said Sian, shaking her head. "I'm not talking about big articles. They just slip you in, like you're a standing joke."

"What d'you - ?"

"It's quite nasty, actually," said Sian in a voice of forced calm. "They're just building on Peter's stuff."

"But he's not writing for them anymore, is he?"

"Oh, no, he's kept his promise - not that he's got any choice," Sian added with satisfaction. "But he laid the foundation for what they're trying to do now."

"Which is _what_?" I said impatiently.

"OK, you know he wrote that you were collapsing all over the place and that your scar was hurting and all that?"

"Yeah," I said; I still haven't forgotten everything Peter Meter wrote about me.

"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded, attention-seeking person who thinks she's this great tragic hero or something," said Sian, very fast, as though it would be less unpleasant for me to hear these facts quickly. "They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears, they say something like, "A tale worthy of Kiara Pride-Lander", and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's, "Let's hope she hasn't got a scar on her forehead or we'll be asked to worship her next" - "

"I don't want anyone to worship - " I began hotly.

"I know you don't," said Sian quickly, looking alarmed. "I _know_ , Kiara. But don't you see what they're doing? They want to turn you into someone nobody will believe. Sweets is behind it, I'll bet anything. They want wizards on the street to think you're just some stupid girl who's a bit of a joke, who tells ridiculous tall stories because she loves being famous and wants to keep it going."

"I didn't ask - I didn't want - _Zira's the reason I got separated from my parents_!" I spluttered. "I got famous because she separated my family, all because she couldn't kill me! Who wants to be famous for that? Don't they think I'd rather it'd never - "

"We _know_ , Kiara," said Chris earnestly.

"And of course, they didn't report a word about the Stingers attacking you," said Sian. "Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control Stingers. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statue of Secrecy. We thought they would, it would tie-in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off. We think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town - I mean, _if_ you're going to be expelled, obviously," she went on hastily. "You really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own rules, there's no case against you."

We were back on the hearing and I did not want to think about that. I cast around for another change of subject, but I was saved the necessity of finding one by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, which was further proven by the Electronic Ears box flashing red again.

"Uh oh."

Tanya quickly picked up the box and the hearing aid; there was another loud crack and she and Geri vanished. Seconds later, Grandmother Sarabi appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now. Everyone's dying to see you, Kiara - "

"Are _they_ staying for dinner?" said Merida excitedly, as she, Beth and Kestrel tried to stifle their giggles.

"Of course they're not, Merida," said Grandmother Sarabi sharply. "You know they all have families to get to, _him_ as much as any of them."

The girls stopped giggling at once, and I noticed that they looked a little disappointed. Grandmother Sarabi frowned at them, then turned to me, her expression brightened as she came over to me, kissed my cheek, hugged me and said, "Oh, I'm so glad to see you again, sweetie, and I am rather glad that you have not run into Kleaner yet. Now, come on, everyone, let's get down to the kitchen."

She drew back, smiled at me and left the room, with Beth, Kestrel and Merida slumping out behind her, leaving me alone with Chris, Sian and Chrissie. The three of them were watching me apprehensively, as though they feared I would start shouting again now that everyone else had gone. The sight of them looking so nervous made me feel slightly ashamed.

"Look ..." I muttered, but Chrissie shook her head, Chris looked at me sympathetically and Sian said quietly, "We knew you'd be angry, Kiara, we really don't blame you, but you've got to understand, we did try to persuade Ma - "

"Yeah, I know," I said shortly.

I cast around for a topic that didn't involve my headmistress, because the very thought of Crighton made my insides burn with anger again (of course she had her reasons for keeping me in the dark, I just didn't know about them until the end of my fifth year).

"Who's Kleaner?" I asked.

"The house-elf who lives here," said Chris. "Nutter. Never met one like her."

Sian frowned at Chris.

"She's not a _nutter_ , Chris."

"Chris does have a point, S.D.," said Chrissie. "I mean, her life's ambition is to have her head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like her mother. Tell me, is that normal?"

"Well - well, if she is a bit strange, it's not her fault."

Chris and Chrissie both rolled their eyes at me.

"Sian still hasn't given up on HAME," Chris said.

"It's not HAME!" said Sian heatedly. "It's Help All the Mistreated Elves. And it's not just me, Ma says we should be kind to Kleaner too, as does Hermione Weasley. True, we do have some different opinions on my campaign, but still."

"Yeah, yeah," said Chrissie. "C'mon, I'm starving."

She led the way out of the door and on to the landing, but before we could descend the stairs -

"Hold it!" Chrissie breathed, flinging out an arm to stop Chris, Sian and I walking any further. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something."

The four of us looked cautiously over the banisters. The gloomy hallways below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of my guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group, I saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of my least favourite teacher at Dragon Mort, Professor Triphorm. I leant further over the banisters. I was very interested in what Triphorm was doing for the Order of the Centaur ...

A dull red beeping from above distracted me. I looked up, and saw Tanya and Geri on the landing above, cautiously pointing the box down into the hall below. A moment later, however, they all began to move towards the front door and out of sight.

"Dammit," I heard Tanya whisper, as she hoisted the Electronic Ear box back out of sight.

We heard the front door open, then close.

"Triphorm never eats here," Chris told me quietly. "Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget, keep your voice down in the hall, Kiara," Sian whispered.

As we passed the row of dead house-elves on the wall, we saw Meers, Grandmother Sarabi and Todd at the front door, magically sealing its many bolts behind those who had just left.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Grandmother Sarabi whispered, meeting us at the bottom of the stairs. "Kiara, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here - "

CRASH.

 _"Todd!"_ cried Grandmother Sarabi in exasperation, turning to look behind her.

"I'm sorry!" wailed Todd, who was lying flat on the floor. "It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over - "

But the rest of her words were drowned by a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech.

The moth-eaten velvet curtains I had passed earlier had flown apart, but there was no door behind them. For a split second, I thought that I was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured - then I realised it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant I have ever seen in my life.

The old woman was drooling, her eyes were rolling, the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed; and all along the hall behind us, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too, so that I actually screwed up my eyes at the noise and I clapped my hands over my ears.

Meers and Grandmother Sarabi darted forward and tried to tug the curtains shut over the old woman, but they would not close and she screeched louder than ever, brandishing clawed hands as though trying to tear at our faces.

 _Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers - "_

Todd apologised over and over again, dragging the huge, heavy troll's leg back off the floor; Grandmother Sarabi abandoned the attempt to close the curtains and hurried up and down the hall, Stunning all the other portraits with her wand; and a man with long black hair, a man I had never met before, but a man I had seen in a photograph or two, came charging out of a door facing me.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut UP!" he roared in a voice that was sharp and clear (but with a slight wheeze to it) as he seized the curtain Grandmother Sarabi had abandoned.

The old woman's face blanched.

 _"Yooooou!"_ she howled, her eyes popping at the sight of the man. _"Blood-traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"_

"I said - shut - UP!" roared the man, and with a stupendous effort he and Meers managed to force the curtains closed again.

The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell.

Panting slightly and sweeping his long dark hair out of his eyes, the man turned to face me. He was tall and stout. He had thick black eyebrows and moustache, a wide mouth that when opened you could see a gap between two of his bottom teeth. He also had large black eyes that were looking at me kindly.

"You're Simba and Nala's daughter, Kiara, aren't ya?"

"Yeah, I am," I said. "And ... you're Tusks, right? Or should I call you Pumbaa?"

He chuckled softly. "Pumbaa works just fine, kid. Ya don't have to call me Mr Warts, 'cause I don't care for formalities." His expression darkened, and he said more grimly, "I see you've met my mother."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **The Order of the Centaur**

 **KIARA**

"Your - ?"

"My dear old mum, yeah," said Pumbaa. "We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?" I asked, bewildered, as we went through the door from the hall and led the way down a flight of narrow stone steps, the others just behind us.

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Pumbaa. "But I'm the last of the Warts, so it's mine now. I offered it to Crighton for Headquarters."

"But, I thought you were born and raised in Africa, weren't you? Like Professor Meers was?" At Pumbaa's questioning look, I said, "I figured it out. Anyway, how did you get here? To England?"

"Oh, well, my brother and I were administered to Dragon Mort; I was first, being the eldest, so my parents decided to move here to England, to be closer to school, so to speak. You see, my parents put many enchantments and spells on the trees here, to transform them into a house whenever someone got close - but it only works for those who know about this place. Everything from our old house was moved here. Oh, and don't mind the "Proud Woodland's End" thing. My parents weren't particularly fond of your family. Now, come on, let's get down there. I know for a fact that there are many people who want to meet you." And with that, Pumbaa led me through the same door the others went through, down the narrow set of stairs and through a door which led to the basement kitchen.

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough peeling bark. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room (I assumed there were Fire-Stopping Charms all over the house to stop it from catching fire). A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of them, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Dawson and Sam were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Grandmother Sarabi cleared her throat. Mr Dawson, a tall, chubby, man with dark brown hair that was slowly turning grey, looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Kiara!" Mr Dawson said, hurrying forwards to greet me, and shook my hand vigorously. "Good to see you!"

Over his shoulder I saw Sam, whose hair was still as short as ever, hastily rolling up the lengths of parchment left on the table.

"Journey all right, Kiara?" Sam called, as she tried to gather up twelve scrolls at once. "Crazy-Head didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"She tried," said Todd, striding over to help Sam and immediately toppling a candle on to the last piece of parchment. "Oh no - sorry - "

"Here, Todd," said a woman with pale gold hair, pale skin and large aqua-marine blue eyes, sounding exasperated, and she repaired the parchment with a wave of her wand. In a flash of light caused by the woman's charm, I caught a glimpse of what looked like the plan of a building.

Grandmother Sarabi had (somehow) seen me looking. She walked over, snatched the plan off the table and stuffed it into Sam's already overladen arms.

"This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings," she snapped, before sweeping off towards an ancient dresser from which she started unloading dinner plates.

Sam took out her wand, muttered, _"Evanesco!"_ and the scrolls vanished.

I then turned to the woman, and it was only then that I took notice of the man stood behind her, a man with long tawny hair, round amber eyes and a large, warm smile that was directed at me. I smiled back at both of them - well, grinned at them, actually.

"Daddy! Mum!" I cried, happier than I had been in a month. I flung my arms around my father's neck and held him tightly, as he and Mum both hugged me. When I let go, my father said, "Hello, Kiara? How are you?"

"Much better now that I've seen you two," I said, beaming. "How are you?"

"I think your father and I are both feeling the same as you are, Kiara," Mum said, kissing my brow.

"Sit down, Kiara," Daddy said. "You've met Mona, haven't you?"

The thing I had taken to be a pile of rags gave a prolonged, grunting snore, then jerked awake.

"Some'n say m'name?" Mona mumbled sleepily. "I 'gree with Simba ..." She raised a very grubby hand in the air as though voting, her droopy, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

Merry giggled.

"The meeting's over, Mona," said Daddy, as we all sat down around her at the table. "Kiara's arrived."

"Eh," said Mona, peering balefully at me through her matted ginger hair. "Blimey, so she 'as. Yeah ... you all right, Kiara?"

"Yeah," I said.

Mona fumbled nervously in her pockets, still staring at me, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. She stuck it in her mouth, ignited the end of it with her wand and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured her within seconds.

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

"For the last time, Mona," called Sian, as she hurried forwards with a man on her arm, whose face was covered with cloths, apart from his eyes, who I knew to be Kopa, "will you please _not_ smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Mona. "Right, Sorry, Sian."

The cloud of smoke vanished as Mona stowed her pipe back in her pocket, but an acrid smell of burning socks lingered.

"Kopa, good to see you again," I said, shaking his hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Just doing some stuff for the Order," he said, his voice muffled slightly by the cloths. "But I'm also here to spend some time with Sian." Sian giggled as he kissed her cheek.

"Wow. So, things are going well between you two, huh?" I asked them.

"Yeah," Kopa said. "I'm of age, and my parents understand the importance of this cause - and how important Sian is to me." He then made a movement that looked as though he kissed Sian on the head. Sian took the gesture well, because she leant her head against his chest, and I think it was then that I realised that Sian had changed because of the love that she had for Kopa. Unfortunately, though, this lovely moment was ruined by Grandmother Sarabi.

"You know, if you all want something to eat before midnight, I'll need a hand," she said to the room at large. "No, you can stay where you are, Kiara, you've had a long journey."

"What can I do, Sarabi?" said Todd enthusiastically, bounding forwards, as Sian sighed, patted Kopa's chest and moved towards the dresser.

Grandmother Sarabi hesitated, looking apprehensive.

"Er - no, it's all right, Todd, you have a rest too, you've done enough today."

"No, no, I want to help!" said Todd brightly, knocking over a chair as she hurried towards the dresser, from which Merida was collecting cutlery.

Soon, a series of heavy knives and forks were chopping meat and vegetables of their own accord, supervised by Mr Dawson, as Grandmother Sarabi stirred a cauldron dangling over the fire and the others, which now included Joe and Jack (the two youngest Dawson twin boys) and Ben and Dave (the Dawsons' foster brothers) took out plates, more goblets and food from the pantry. I was left at the table with my parents and Mona, who was still blinking at me mournfully.

"Seen old Figgsy since?" she asked.

"No," I said, "I haven't seen anyone."

"See, I wouldn't 'ave left," said Mona, leaning forward, a pleading note in her voice, "but I 'ad a business opportunity - "

I felt something brush against my knees and started, but it was only Lucifer, Sian's bandy-legged black cat, who wound himself once around my legs, purring, then jumped on to my father's lap and curled up. Daddy scratched him absent-mindedly behind the ears as he and Mum turned to me.

"Had a good summer so far, hon?" Mum asked.

"No, it's been lousy," I said.

Something like a grin fluttered across my mother's face.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

 _"What?"_ I said incredulously.

"Your mother would have welcomed a Stinger attack with open arms, Kiara," said Daddy, shaking his head sternly at her.

"Oh, don't be such a hypocrite, Simba," Mum retorted. "You would have done the same thing if you were in your daughter's shoes - and her age."

Grandmother Sarabi chuckled from the dresser.

"She's right, my boy, you would have. And let's not forget the hyena incident, eh, Nala?" Something about this must have been amusing, because Grandmother Sarabi and Mum both laughed raucously. Daddy, however, did not laugh or crack a smile. He did not look that best pleased, either.

"Look, I've grown up a lot since then, OK? Besides, I wouldn't mind to get out and about and stretch my legs, like your mother would like - she'd probably like to get into a few fights, actually - as for us, we've been stuck inside for a month."

"How come?" I said, frowning.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after us," said Mum, "and Zira will know about us being Animagus' and about our Animal Spirit forms now, so our disguises are useless. There's not much we can do for the Order of the Centaur ... or so Crighton feels."

"She's just trying to protect us, Nala - "

"Oh, don't give me that, Simba! You're just as annoyed with Crighton as I am!"

There was something about my father's flattened tone (as well as my mother's anger) at the very mention of Crighton that told me that my parents, too, were not very happy with the Headmistress. I felt a sudden upsurge of affection for my parents.

"At least you've known what's been going on," I said bracingly.

"Oh yeah," said Mum sarcastically. "Listening to Triphorm's reports, having to take all her snide hints that she's out there risking her life while your father and I are sat on our backsides here having a nice comfortable time ... asking us how the cleaning's going - "

"What cleaning?" I asked.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation," said Daddy, waving a hand around the kitchen. "No one's lived here for ten years, not since Pumbaa's mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and she's - well - she's quite an odd thing, to say the least - hasn't cleaned anything in ages, from what Pumbaa's told us - "

"Pumbaa!" Mona called to him, who did not appear to have paid any attention to the conversation, but had been closely examining an empty goblet. "This solid silver, mate?"

"Yeah," Pumbaa called back from where he stood at the dresser, looking at what Mona was holding and surveyed it with distaste. "Finest fifteenth-century faun-wrought silver, embossed with the Warts family crest."

"That'd come orf, though," muttered Mona, polishing it with her cuff.

"Tanya - Geri - NO, JUST CARRY THEM!" Sian shrieked.

My parents, Mona and I looked round and, within a split second, we dived beneath the table. Tanya and Geri had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of Butterbeer and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards us. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface; the flagon of Butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere; the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where my father's right hand had been seconds before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" screamed Sian. "THERE WAS NO NEED - JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW, DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Tanya, hurrying forwards to wrench the bread knife out of the table. "Sorry, Simba - we didn't mean to - "

"That's quite all right," Daddy huffed, as he pulled Mum and me to our feet. "Nala? Kiara? Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

"Oh, stop fussing, Simba. We're fine, aren't we, Kiara?" I nodded my head in earnest, and my father looked relieved. I then looked at Mona, who had toppled backwards off her chair, was swearing as she got to her feet; Lucifer had given an angry hiss and had shot off under the dresser, from where his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.

"Girls," Mr Dawson said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table, "Sian's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age - "

"I know that none of your sisters caused this sort of trouble!" Sian raged at the twins as she slammed a fresh flagon of Butterbeer on to the table, and spilling almost as much again. "Sam didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Kat didn't charm everything she met! Pedy - "

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her father, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

"Let's eat," said Sam quickly.

"It looks wonderful, Sarabi," said Meers, ladling stew on to a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as we all settled down to our food. Then Grandmother Sarabi turned to Pumbaa.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Pumbaa, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a Boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Aoife to take a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Pumbaa indifferently.

"The curtains in there are full of Doxys, too," Grandmother Sarabi went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Pumbaa. I heard the sarcasm in his voice, but I wasn't sure that anyone else did.

Opposite me, Todd was entertaining Sian, Chris, Beth, Kestrel and Merida by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with the same painful expression she had worn back in my bedroom, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Triphorm's, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Sian, Chris, Beth, Kestrel and Merida were soon requesting their favourites.

"Do that one like a pig snout, Todd."

Todd obliged, and as I looked at her, I snorted at the snout in the middle of her face. I then turned to my parents and asked them, "So what's this hyena story, then?"

My father didn't answer, but kept his face down, his face flushed with embarrassment. My mother swallowed the bit of stew that she was eating and said, "Well, Kiara, when your father was little, he wanted to be like his father - your grandfather - Mufasa, who was a very brave man. Anyway, one day there was a problem with hyenas that your grandfather had to sort out, and he told your father to stay home. Your father was annoyed, so he went to talk to his uncle, who told him where he could find the hyenas, and so your lovely, idiotic father here thought it would be a good idea to prove his bravery by fighting one - and his oh-so brilliant brain told him that it was a good idea to drag me along with him - "

"He didn't?" I said, shocked at my father's behaviour.

"Oh, indeed he did, my girl," Mum continued. "So your father and I went to this Elephant Graveyard where the hyenas were - but your father didn't think that there would be more than one hyena there, did he? So, we ended up running for our lives, lost and alone, until Mufasa came along and saved us. His fury at Simba was very great. So great, in fact, that I believe that Mufasa took your father home and made sure he'd never forget about it. But that wasn't the first time that your father put himself and I in danger, Kiara - "

"All right, Nala, that's enough!" my father said sharply, and for the rest of dinner, my parents kept their attention focused on eating their food, although I kept seeing a smile play around my mother's lips. I, though, focused my attentions on other conversations. One that caught my ears was an intense discussion that Mr Dawson, Sam and Meers were having about fauns.

"They're not giving anything away yet," said Sam. "I still can't work out whether or not they believe she's back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."

"I'm sure they'd never go over to She-You-Know," said Mr Dawson, shaking his head. "They've suffered losses too; remember that faun family she murdered last time, somewhere near Brighton?"

"I think it depends what they're offered," said Meers. "And I'm not talking about gold. If they're offered the freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Raxa, Sam?"

"She's feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment," said Sam, "she hasn't stopped raging about the Baxter business, she reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those fauns never got their gold from her, you know - "

A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Sam's words. Tanya, Geri, Chrissie and Mona were rolling around in their seats.

" ... and then," choked Mona, tears rolling down her face, "and then, if you'll believe it, she says to me, she says, "'Ere, Mona, where didja get all them frogs from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!" And I says, "Nicked all your frogs, Wilf, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?" And if you'll believe me, girls, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'er own frogs back orf me for a lot more'n what she paid in the first place - "

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mona," said Grandmother Sarabi sharply, as Chrissie slumped forwards on to the table, howling with laughter.

"Beg pardon, Sarabi," said Mona at once, wiping her eyes and winking at me. "But you know Wilf nicked 'em orf Walton Harrison in the first place so I wasn't really doing anything wrong."

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mona, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons," said Grandmother Sarabi coldly.

Tanya and Geri buried their faces in their bottles of Butterbeer; Geri was hiccoughing. For some unknown reason, Grandmother Sarabi threw a very nasty look at Pumbaa before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large apple crumble for pudding. I looked round at my parents.

"My mother doesn't approve of Mona," Daddy said in an undertone. "And neither do your mother and I, Kiara, for that matter."

"How come she's in the Order?" I said, very quietly.

"She's useful," Mum muttered. "Knows all the crooks - well, she would, seeing as she's one herself. But she's also very loyal to Crighton, who helped her out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Mona around, she hears things we don't. But Sarabi thinks inviting her to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn't forgiven her for slipping off duty when she was supposed to be tailing you - and your father and I aren't too happy with her, either."

"You're not?"

"Of course we're not, Kiara," my father said. He then touched my shoulder, looked me in the eye and said, very intently, "You're our daughter, and if something were to happen to you, I'm sure that not one person in this room would know what they would do without you - as well as everyone out there in the world who depend on you, Kiara, no matter what some of them think about you right now. You matter to so many people, Kiara, and soon you will know and understand just how much you mean to the world." My father then smiled gently at me, and began to eat his apple crumble, as I pondered on his words ...

And so, three helpings of apple crumble and custard later, the waistband on my jeans felt uncomfortably tight. As I laid down my spoon there was a lull in the general conversation; Mr Dawson leaned back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Todd was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal; and Merida, who had lured Lucifer out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chase.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Grandmother Sarabi with a yawn.

"Not just yet, Sarabi," said Mum, pushing away her empty plate and turning to look at me. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Zira."

The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity I associated with the arrival of Stingers. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Zira's name. Meers, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"I did!" I said indignantly. "I asked Chris, Sian and Chrissie but they said we're not in the Order, so - "

"And they're quite right," said Grandmother Sarabi. "You're too young."

She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone. I have to tell you, readers, I have never seen my grandmother Sarabi as overprotective of me than she was in that kitchen.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Centaur to ask questions?" Daddy said. "Kiara's been trapped in that cottage of yours for a month without any news. She's got the right to know what's been happen - "

"Hang on!" interrupted Geri loudly.

"How come Kiara gets her questions answered?" said Tanya angrily.

" _We've_ been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said Geri.

 _" "You're too young, you're not in the Order," "_ said Tanya, in a low-pitched voice that sounded very much like Mr Dawson's. "Kiara's not even of age!"

"Hey, it isn't our fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing," said Pumbaa calmly, "that's your parent's decision. Kiara, on the other hand - "

"It's not down for you to decide what's good for her, Pumbaa!" said Grandmother Sarabi sharply. Pumbaa sat down. The expression on my grandmother's normally kind face looked dangerous as she turned to face my parents again. "Simba, Nala, you haven't forgotten what Crighton said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Daddy asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight. Mum placed one of her hands on top of his and squeezed it gently.

"The bit about not telling Kiara more than she _needs to know_ ," said Grandmother Sarabi, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.

Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Tanya and Geri's heads swivelled from my parents to Grandmother Sarabi as though they were following a tennis rally. Merida was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open, along with Beth, Kestrel, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave, who were sat at the table. Meers' eyes were fixed on both of my parents.

"Look, Nala and I don't intend to tell her more than she _needs to know_ , Mother," said Daddy. "But as she was the one who saw Zira come back" (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) "she has more right than most to - "

"She's not a member of the Order of the Centaur!" said Grandmother Sarabi. "She's only fifteen and - "

"And she's dealt with as much as most in the Order," said Mum, "and more than some."

"No one's denying what she's done!" said Grandmother Sarabi, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. "But she's still - "

"She's not a child!" said Mum impatiently.

"She's not an adult, either!" said Grandmother Sarabi, the colour rising in her cheeks. "She's still at school and adults responsible for her should not forget it!"

"Hey, I'm right here, y'know!" I said, but for the first time in my life, Grandmother Sarabi ignored me.

"Meaning we're responsible parents?" demanded Mum, her voice rising.

"Meaning you and my son have been known to act rashly, Nala, which is why Crighton keeps reminding you both to stay at home and - "

"We'll leave our instructions from Crighton out of this, if you please, Mother!" said my father loudly.

"Matthew!" said Grandmother Sarabi, rounding on Mr Dawson. "Matthew, back me up!"

Mr Dawson did not speak at once. He took a rather long drag of Butterbeer from his bottle, not looking at Grandmother Sarabi. Only when he had put the bottle back down on the table carefully did he reply.

"My wife knows the position has changed, Sarabi. She accepts that Kiara will have to be filled in, to a certain extent, now that she is staying at Headquarters."

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting her to ask whatever she likes!"

"Personally," said Meers quietly, looking away from my parents at last, as Grandmother Sarabi turned quickly to him, hopeful that finally she was about to get an ally, "I think it better that Kiara gets the facts - not all the facts, Sarabi, but the general picture - from us, rather than a garbled version from ... others."

His expression was mild, but I felt sure Meers, at least, knew that some Electronic Ears had survived Grandmother Sarabi's purge.

"Well," said Grandmother Sarabi, breathing deeply and looking around the table for support that did not come, "well ... I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Crighton must have had her reasons for not wanting Kiara to know too much, and speaking as someone who has Kiara's best interests at heart - "

"She's not _your_ daughter, Sarabi," said Mum quietly. "She's mine and Simba's child, or have you forgotten?"

"I forget nothing, Nala," said Grandmother Sarabi fiercely, "but she's as good as my daughter. Who else has she got?"

"She's got us, Sarabi! We're her parents! And we are perfectly capable of taking care of our daughter - "

"Yes, well, I'm sure you both did a great job of that in Azkaban, when I've been the one who's been doing that parenting job for you all this time - including Sarafina - and we've done a very good job of it, thank you very much!"

The air suddenly became a lot colder, despite the roaring fire. No one moved, no one made a sound, except for my father, who slowly stood up, glaring at Grandmother Sarabi, his fisted hands on the table. He looked like a lion ready to pounce.

"Mother," my father said in a voice of forced calm, "I know that you've done the best that you could for my daughter, and I appreciate that, as well as Nala, but we are here to take care of her. We're her parents, after all. We have every right to. And, anyway, you think you've been the perfect parent towards Kiara, Mother? Then tell me this: how come you and Sarafina never told Kiara where we were for twelve years, never letting us write to her, and she us? I know many other people never told her where we were, either, but still."

"Sarafina and I did that to protect her! We didn't want Kiara growing up ashamed of her parents - "

"Well, she wouldn't have been ashamed, if you had listened to myself and Nala when you came to visit us in Azkaban all those times when we told you that we were innocent - " (And it was then that I understood where Grandmother Sarabi had disappeared to a few hours every couple of weeks or so when I was a kid.)

Grandmother Sarabi would have said something, but Meers got there first.

"Sarabi, you are not the only person at this table who cares about Kiara," he said sharply. "Simba, sit _down_."

Grandmother Sarabi's lower lip was trembling. My father sank slowly back into his chair, his face flushed.

"I think Kiara ought to be allowed a say in this," Meers continued, "seeing as she's old enough to decide for herself now."

"I want to know what's going on," I said at once.

I did not look at Grandmother Sarabi. Oh don't get me wrong, I had been touched by what she had said about me being as good as her daughter, but my parents were right, I was their daughter and I was not a child.

"Very well," said Grandmother Sarabi, her voice cracking. "Sian - Chrissie - Beth - Kestrel - Merida - Chris - Joe - Jack - Ben - Dave - Tanya - Geri - I want you out of this kitchen now."

There was an instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Tanya and Geri bellowed together.

"If Kiara's allowed, why can't I?" Chris shouted.

"Yeah - Chris, Sian and I are the same age as Kiara, we should be allowed to stay!" Chrissie shouted.

"Dad, I want to hear too!" Merida wailed to her father.

"As do we!" said Kestrel, pointing to herself, Beth, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave, who were all nodding eagerly.

"NO!" shouted Grandmother Sarabi, standing up, her eyes overbright. "I absolutely forbid - "

"Sarabi, you can't stop Tanya and Geri," said Mr Dawson wearily. "They _are_ of age."

"They're still at school."

"But they're legally adults now," said Mr Dawson, in the same tired voice.

Grandmother Sarabi was now scarlet in the face.

"I - oh, all right then, Tanya and Geri can stay, but Sian - "

"Kiara'll tell me, Sian and Chrissie everything you say anyway!" said Chris hotly. "Won't - won't you?" he added uncertainly, meeting my eyes.

For a split second, I considered telling Chris that I wouldn't tell him a single word, that he could try a taste of being kept in the dark and see how he liked it. But the nasty impulse vanished as we looked at each other.

"'Course I will," I said.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie beamed.

"Fine!" shouted Grandmother Sarabi. "Fine! Beth - Kestrel - Merida - Joe - Jack - Ben - Dave - BED!"

The seven youngsters did not go quietly. We heard them raging and storming at Grandmother Sarabi all the way up the stairs, and when they reached the hall Mrs Warts' ear-splitting shrieks were added to the din. Meers hurried off to the portrait to restore calm. It was only after he returned, closing the kitchen door behind him and taking his seat at the table again, that my father spoke.

"OK, Kiara ... what do you want to know?"

I took a deep breath and asked the question that had obsessed me for the past month.

"Where's Zira?" I said, ignoring the renewed shudders and winces at the name. "What's she doing? I've been watching the Muggle news, and there hasn't been anything that looks like her yet, no funny deaths or anything."

"That's because there hasn't been any funny deaths yet," said Daddy, "not as far as we know, anyway ... and we know quite a lot."

"More than she thinks we know, anyway," said Meers.

"How come she's stopped killing people?" I asked. I know that Zira had murdered more than once in the last year alone.

"Because she doesn't want to draw attention to herself," said Mum. "It would be dangerous for her. Her comeback didn't come off quite the way she wanted it to, you see. She messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for her," said Meers, with a satisfied smile.

"How?" I asked, perplexed.

"You weren't supposed to survive!" said Daddy. "Nobody apart from her Love Destroyers was supposed to know she'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person she wanted alerted to her return the moment she got back was Crighton," said Mum. "And you made sure Crighton knew at once."

"How has that helped?" I asked.

"Are you kidding, kid?" said Pumbaa incredulously. "Crighton was the only one She-You-Know was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Crighton was able to recall the Order of the Centaur about an hour after Zira returned," said Daddy, "along with a few well-known people who fought Lord Voldemort at Hogwarts."

"So, what's the Order been doing?" I said, looking around at them all.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Zira can't carry out her plans," said Mum.

"How d'you know what her plans are?" I asked quickly.

"Crighton's got a shrewd idea," said Meers, "and Crighton's shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate."

"So what does Crighton reckons she's planning?"

"Well, firstly, she wants to build up an army," said Daddy. "In the old days, she didn't have huge armies at her command; the least she could afford to get were witches and wizards she'd bullied into following her, and her faithful Love Destroyers. Dark creatures she couldn't get to do her bidding back then, because she was hiding in the shadows back then, doing things quietly. After all, these were the times when Lord Voldemort was at large, so she didn't want to draw to much attention to herself; so she started off away from England - in South Africa. I suppose that because she was born there, that that's why she wanted to start gaining power there. Anyway, you heard her planning to recruit giants; well, they'll be just one of the groups she's after. She's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Love Destroyers."

"So you're trying to stop her getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Meers.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that She-You-Know has really returned, to put them on their guard," said Sam. "Which, given the fact that no one really knows about her, even though they've heard what she's done, is proving to be a tricky task for us indeed."

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Todd. "You saw Cornelia Sweets after She-You-Know came back, Kiara. Well, she hasn't shifted her position at all. She's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why?" I said desperately. "Why's she being so stupid? If Crighton - "

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr Dawson with a wry smile. _"My wife."_

"Sweets is frightened of her, you see," said Todd sadly.

"Frightened of Crighton?" I said incredulously.

"Frightened of what she's up to," said Mr Dawson. "Sweets thinks Susan's plotting to overthrow her. She thinks my wife wants to be Minister for Magic."

"But Crighton doesn't want - "

"Of course she doesn't," said Mr Dawson. "She's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted her to take it when Kingsley Shacklebolt retired. Sweets came to power instead, but she's never quite forgotten how much popular support Crighton had, even though Crighton never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Sweets knows Crighton's much cleverer than she is, a much more powerful witch, and in the early days of her Ministry she was for ever asking Crighton for help and advice," said Meers. "But it seems she's become fond of power, and much more confident. She loves being Minister for Magic and she's managed to convince herself that she's the clever one and Crighton's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can she think that?" I said angrily. "How can she think that Crighton would just make it all up - that _I'd_ make it all up? I mean, this has happened before between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, so - "

"Oh, well, that's just it, Kiara," said Mum sadly. "Because this has happened before, Sweets doesn't want that trouble to happen again, and there's also the matter of thinking that the Ministry hasn't faced trouble this big for ten years now. Sweets can't bring herself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince herself Crighton's lying to destabilise her."

"You see the problem," said Meers. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Zira it's hard to convince people she's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the _Daily Squabbler_ not to report any of what they're calling Crighton's rumour-mongering, so most of the wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Love Destroyers if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you?" I said, looking around at Mr Dawson, my parents, Kopa, Sam, Pumbaa, Meers, Mona and Todd. "You're letting people know she's back?"

"Well, as everyone thinks your mother and I are mass-murderers and the Ministry's put a ten thousand Galleon price on our heads, we can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can we?" my father said restlessly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Meers. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

"Todd, Matthew and many others would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off," said Mum, "and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Zira will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though," said Mr Dawson. "Todd here, for one - she's too young to have been in the Order last time, and having a few Aurors on our side is a huge advantage - Kara Shackles' been a real asset, too; she and I are in charge of a hunt for Simba and Nala, so she's been feeding the Ministry information that they're in Turkey. And of course, Harry Potter himself is helping us to cover where Simba and Nala really are, seeing as he is Head of the Auror Department and is part of the Order."

"But if none of you are putting the news out that Zira's back - "

"Who says none of us are putting the news out?" said Mum. "Why d'you think Crighton's in trouble?"

"What d'you mean?" I asked.

"They're trying to discredit her," said Meers. "Didn't you see the _Daily Squabbler_ last week? They reported that she'd been voted out of the International Confederation of Wizards because she's getting old and losing her grip, but it's not true; she was voted out by Ministry wizards after she made a speech announcing Zira's return. They've demoted her from the Wizengamot - that's the Wizard High Court - and they're talking about taking away her Order of Merlin, First Class - "

"But Aunt Sue says she doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take her off the Multi-Flavoured Fruit-Frog Cards," said Sam, grinning.

"It's no laughing matter," said Mr Dawson sharply. "If she carries on defying the Ministry like this she could end up in Azkaban, and the last thing we want is to have my wife locked up. While She-You-Know knows Crighton's out there and wise to what she's up to she's going to go cautiously. If my wife's out of the way - well, She-You-Know will have a clear field."

"But if Zira's trying to recruit more Love Destroyers it's bound to get out that she's come back, isn't it?" I asked desperately.

"Zira doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Kiara," said Daddy. "She tricks, jinxes and blackmails them. She's well-practiced at operating in secret. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing she's interested in. She's got other plans too, plans she can put into operation very quietly indeed, and she's concentrating on those for the moment."

"What's she after apart from followers?" I asked swiftly. I thought I saw my parents, Pumbaa and Meers exchange the most fleeting of looks before my father answered.

"Stuff she can only get by stealth."

When I continued to look puzzled, Daddy said, "Like a weapon. Something she didn't have last time."

"When she was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon?" I said. "Something worse than the Avada Kedavra - ?"

"That's enough!"

Grandmother Sarabi spoke from the shadows beside the door. I hadn't notice her return from taking Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave upstairs. Her arms were crossed and she looked furious.

"I want you in bed, now. All of you," she added, looking around at Tanya, Geri, Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"You can't boss us - " Tanya began.

"Watch me," snarled Grandmother Sarabi. She was trembling slightly as she looked at my parents. "You've given Kiara plenty of information. Any more and you might just as well induct her into the Order straightaway."

"Why not?" I said quickly. "I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight."

"No."

It wasn't Grandmother Sarabi who spoke this time, but Meers.

"The Order is comprised of overage wizards," he said. "Wizards who have left school," he added, as Tanya and Geri opened their mouths. "There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you ... I think Sarabi's right, Simba, Nala. We've said enough."

My mother half-shrugged and looked slightly disappointed, but my father just merely nodded and shot me an apologetic look, but neither of them argued. Grandmother Sarabi beckoned imperiously to the Dawsons and the Fang twins. One by one they stood up and I, recognising defeat, followed suit - but not before I saw Sian kiss Kopa goodnight, and as she stood up I saw Mr Dawson shoot Kopa a warning look. Sian, catching this, turned to her father and, shooting daggers at him, said, "Father, could I see you for a moment, _in private_?"

The air in the room became colder instantly. None of us moved, none of us made a sound, until Kopa decided to try and put his hand on Sian's shoulder, but she shrugged him off, turned to him and said, "I'm fine, Kopa. I just need a word with my father. So ... if you all don't mind ... ?"

Getting the hint, we all left the table and went to the door. Once there I looked back at Sian, who was still glaring at her father. Catching my eye, Sian smiled at me before she nudged her head towards the door. Nodding and smiling at her, I left Sian and her father alone.

 **SIAN**

Once the door had closed, Sian turned back to her father, who was looking at her calmly, but Sian could see a flicker of nervousness behind his eyes, and Sian knew why: because she was like her mother in many ways, especially when she got angry, and this gave Sian the confidence to speak.

"Father," she began. She only used the term "father" when she was really angry with him, or when the situation was serious. "Father, I get why you're being overprotective of me, I truly do: I'm fifteen, I'm young, I'm still in school, and many other reasons - but guess what? Kopa is a part of my life, Dad, whether you like it or not. I love him and he loves me - "

"But, Sian - " her father began, but Sian was having none of it.

"I know, Dad!" she shouted, which made him back down. Calming down, she said quietly, "I know. But this is how it is. And I know you're probably not going to get on with me, but I want you to at least try to be nice to him for my sake, because if you can't - " she paused, knowing that these next words were hard for her to say, but she knew she had to say them " - if you can't, then I'm going to walk out of your life and you'll never see me again."

The shock on her father's face broke Sian's heart, but she knew it was the right thing to say.

"Sian!" he said desperately, a pained look crossing his features.

"I know it's hard for you to hear that, Father," she said, "and believe me, it's harder for me to say that, but I had to say it, Dad, because that's how strongly I believe in what Kopa and I have together, and you have to accept that, Dad, because there is no other choice for you right now. And I know that if Ma were here, she'd say exactly the same thing."

She looked at her father, hard. What she said to him was tough, but in her heart, she knew that she was speaking the truth. And as she looked at her father, who was pondering her words, she felt her eyes start to sting, but she wouldn't cry now. She would save that for when she was alone. Almost as if he knew, her father looked up at her, got up and walked around the table to where she was and wrapped his arms around Sian, who welcomed the hug gladly, burying her head in his chest.

She felt her father nod into her hair. "All right," he said. "If it means this much to you, I'll try to be nicer to Kopa around you."

A few tears sprung to Sian's eyes when she heard those words, but they were tears of joy. "Thank you, Father," she spoke, and for a time afterwards, there were no words spoken between father and daughter. They just held each other, relishing in the comfort and warmth of the love they had. Eventually, though, they separated, and each made their separate way to bed, each feeling that their relationship had grown a little more stronger than it had before.

 **AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope you liked my take on the Elephant Graveyard scene, and the little bit at the end between Sian and her father. I will update again soon.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **The Noble and Most Ancient House of Warts**

 **KIARA**

Grandmother Sarabi followed us upstairs, looking grim.

"I want you all to go straight to bed, no talking," she said as we reached the first landing, "we've got a busy day tomorrow. I hope Sian won't wake Merida once she gets to bed."

"Asleep, yeah, right," said Tanya in an undertone, as we were clambering to the next floor. "If Merida's not lying awake waiting for Sian to go up and tell her everything they said downstairs so that she can tell her other young siblings what Sian told her tomorrow, then I'm a Flobberworm ..."

"All right, Chrissie, Kiara," said Grandmother Sarabi on the second landing, pointing us into our bedroom. "Off to bed with you."

"'Night," Chrissie and I said to the twins and Chris.

"Sleep tight," said Tanya, winking.

Grandmother Sarabi closed the door behind me with a sharp snap. The bedroom looked, if anything, even danker and gloomier than it had on first sight. The blank picture on the wall was now breathing very slowly and deeply, as though its invisible occupant was asleep. I put on my pyjamas and climbed into my chilly bed while Chrissie threw Owl Treats up on top of the wardrobe to pacify Cattonia, Harold and Piggledon, who were clattering around and rustling their wings restlessly.

"We can't let them out to hunt every night," Chrissie explained as she pulled on her green pyjamas. "Ma doesn't want too many owls swooping around these woods, thinks it'll look suspicious. Oh yeah ... I forgot ..."

She crossed to the door and bolted it.

"What're you doing that for?"

"Kleaner," said Chrissie as she turned off the light. "First night I was here she came lurking in at three in the morning. Trust me, you don't want to wake up and find her prowling around your room. Anyway ..." she got into her bed, settled down under the covers then turned to look at me in the darkness; I could see her outline by the moonlight filtering in through the grimy window, _"what d'you reckon?"_

I didn't need to ask what Chrissie meant.

"Well, they didn't tell us much we couldn't have guessed, did they?" I said, thinking of all that had been said downstairs. "I mean, all they've really said is that the Order's trying to stop people joining Zi - "

There was a sharp intake of breath from Chrissie.

" - _ra_ ," I said firmly. "When are you going to start using the name? Your mother, my parents and Meers all do."

Chrissie ignored this last comment.

"Yeah, you're right," she said, "we already knew nearly everything they had told us, from using the Electronic Ears. The only new bit was - "

 _Crack._

"OUCH!"

"Keep your voice down, Chrissie, or Sarabi'll be back up here."

"You two just Apparated on my knees!"

"Yeah, well, it's harder in the dark."

I saw the blurred outlines of Tanya and Geri leaping down from Chrissie's bed. There was a groan of bedsprings and my mattress descended a few inches as Geri sat down near my feet.

"So, got there yet?" said Geri eagerly.

"The weapon my father mentioned?" I said.

"Let slip, more like," said Tanya, with relish, now sitting next to Chrissie. "We didn't hear about that on the old Electronics, did we?"

"What d'you reckon it is?" I said.

"Could be anything," said Tanya.

"But there can't be anything worse than the Avada Kedavra Curse, can there?" said Chrissie. "What's worse than death?"

"Maybe it's something that can kill loads of people at once," suggested Geri.

"Maybe it's some particularly painful way of killing people," said Chrissie fearfully.

"She's got the Cruciatus Curse for causing pain," I said, "she doesn't need anything more efficient than that."

There was a pause and I knew that the others, like myself, were wondering what horrors this weapon could perpetrate.

"So who d'you think's got it now?" asked Geri.

"I hope it's our side," said Chrissie, sounding slightly nervous.

"If it is, Aunt Sue's probably keeping it," said Tanya.

"Where?" said Chrissie quickly. "Dragon Mort?"

"Bet it is!" said Geri. "That's where she hid the Mirror of Wishes."

"A weapon's going to be a lot bigger than the Mirror, though!" said Chrissie.

"Not necessarily," said Tanya.

"Yeah, size is no guarantee of power," said Geri. "Look at Chris."

"What d'you mean?" I said.

"You've never been on the receiving end of one of his Bat-Bogey Hexes, have you?"

"Shh!" said Tanya, half-rising from the bed. "Listen!"

We fell silent. Footsteps were coming up the stairs.

"Sarabi," said Geri, and without further ado there was a loud _crack_ and I felt the weight vanish from the end of my bed. A few seconds later, we heard the floorboard creak outside our door; Grandmother Sarabi was plainly listening to check whether or not we were talking.

Cattonia, Harold and Piggledon hooted dolefully. The floorboard creaked again and we heard her heading upstairs to check on Tanya and Geri (Chris was in the room next to mine and Chrissie's).

"She doesn't trust us at all, you know," said Chrissie regretfully.

I was sure that I was never going to get any sleep that night; the evening had been so packed with things to think about that I fully expected to lie awake for hours mulling it all over. I wanted to continue talking to Chrissie, but Grandmother Sarabi was now creaking back downstairs again, and once she had gone I distinctly heard others making their way upstairs ... in fact, many-legged creatures were cantering up and down outside the bedroom door, and Mina the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was saying, _"Beauties, aren' they, Kiara? We'll be studyin' weapons this term ..."_ and I saw that the creatures had cannons for heads and were wheeling to face me ... I ducked ...

The next thing I knew, I was curled into a warm ball under my bedclothes and Geri's loud voice was filling the room.

"Sarabi says get up, your breakfast's in the kitchen and then she needs you in the drawing room, there are loads more Doxys than she thought and she's found a nest of dead Puffskeins under the sofa."

Half an hour later Chrissie and I, once we had dressed and breakfasted quickly, entered the drawing room, a long, high-ceilinged room on the first floor with peeling barked walls that were covered in tapestries. The twigged floor crunched under our feet, and little clouds of tufted earth were exhaled every time someone put their foot on it and the long, moss green velvet curtains were buzzing as though swarming with invisible bees. It was around these that Grandmother Sarabi, Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Chris, Joe, Jack, Ben, Dave, Tanya and Geri were grouped, all looking rather peculiar as they had each tied a cloth over their nose and mouth. Each of them was also holding a large bottle of black liquid with a nozzle at the end.

"Cover your faces and take a spray," Grandmother Sarabi said to Chrissie and I the moment she saw us, pointing to two more bottle of black liquid standing on a spindle-legged table. "It's Doxycide. I've never seen an infestation this bad - _what_ that house-elf's been doing for the last ten years - "

Sian's face was half concealed by a tea towel but I distinctly saw her throw a reproachful look at Grandmother Sarabi.

"Kleaner's really old, she probably couldn't manage - "

"You'd be surprised what Kleaner can mange when she wants to, Sian," said Pumbaa, who had just entered the room, followed by my parents. I noticed my father had a bloodstained bag of what appeared to be dead rats. "I've just been feeding Noelani," he said, in reply to my questioning look. "She's being kept upstairs in Pumbaa's mother's old bedroom."

"That's right," Pumbaa grunted. "Now ... about this writing desk ..."

As my father dropped the bag of rats into an armchair, Pumbaa walked over to a locked cabinet, bent down and examined it. I noticed then that it was shaking slightly.

"Well, Sarabi, I'm pretty sure this is a Boggart," said Pumbaa, peering through the keyhole, "but perhaps we ought to let Crazy-Head have a shifty at it before we let it out - knowing my mother, it could be something much worse."

"Right you are, Pumbaa," said Grandmother Sarabi.

A loud, clanging bell sounded from downstairs, followed at once by the cacophony of screams and wails that had been triggered the previous night by Todd knocking over the umbrella stand.

"I keep telling them not to ring the doorbell!" said Pumbaa exasperatedly, hurrying out of the room. We heard him thundering down the stairs as Mrs Warts' screeches echoed up through the house once more:

 _"Stains of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth ..."_

"Close the door, please, Kiara," said Grandmother Sarabi.

I took as much time as I dared to close the drawing-room door; I wanted to listen to what was going on downstairs. Pumbaa had obviously managed to shut the curtains over his mother's portrait because she had stopped screaming. I heard Pumbaa walking down the hall, then the clattering of the chain on the front door, and then a soft voice I recognised as Kara Shackles' saying, "Hedley's just relieved me, so he's got Grumpy's Cloak now, thought I'd leave a report for Crighton ..."

I felt Grandmother Sarabi's eyes on the back of my head, so I regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the Doxy party.

Grandmother Sarabi was bending over to check the page on Doxys in _Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests_ , which was lying open on the sofa.

"Right, you lot, you need to be careful, because Doxys bite and their teeth are poisonous. I've got a bottle of antidote here, but I'd rather nobody needed it."

She straightened up, positioned herself squarely in front of the curtains and beckoned us all forward.

"When I say the word, start spraying immediately," she said. "They'll come flying out at us, I expect, but it says on the sprays one good squirt will paralyse them. When they're immobilised, just throw them in this bucket."

She stepped carefully out of our line of fire, and raised her own spray.

"All right - _squirt_!"

I had been spraying only a few seconds when a fully-grown Doxy came soaring out of a fold in the material, shiny beetle-like wings whirring, tiny needle-sharp teeth bared, its fairy-like body covered with thick black hair and its four tiny fists clenched with fury. I caught it full in the face with a blast of Doxycide. It froze in midair and fell, with a surprisingly loud _thunk_ , on to the worn carpet. I picked it up and threw it in the bucket.

"Tanya, what are you doing?" said Grandmother Sarabi sharply. "Spray that at once and throw it away!"

I looked round. Tanya was holding a struggling Doxy between her forefinger and thumb.

"Right-o," said Tanya brightly, spraying the Doxy quickly in the face so that it fainted, but the moment Grandmother Sarabi's back was turned she pocketed it with a wink.

"We want to experiment with Doxy venom for our Gross Body Boxes," Geri told me under her breath.

I deftly sprayed two Doxys at once as they soared straight for my nose, before I moved close to Geri and muttered out of the corner of my mouth, "What are Gross Body Boxes?"

"Range of sweets to make you ill," Geri whispered, keeping a wary eye on Grandmother Sarabi's back. "Not seriously ill, mind, just ill enough to get you out of a class when you feel like it. Tanya and I have been developing them this summer. They're two different, colour-coded sweets, but they both help each other. If you eat the green Hurling Horehound, you throw up. Moment you've rushed out of the lesson for the hospital wing - or to the nearest bathroom, whether it be your workplace or home - there you swallow the red Horehound - "

" " - which restores you to full fitness, enabling you to pursue whichever activities you want, or just to relax, in an hour - or hours - that would have resulted in you grumbling in your work, school or home life." That's what we're putting in the adverts, anyway," whispered Tanya, who had edged over out of Grandmother Sarabi's line of vision and was sweeping a few stray Doxys from the floor and added them to her pocket. "But they still need a bit of work. At the moment, our testers are having a bit of trouble stopping themselves puking long enough to swallow the red Horehound."

"Testers?"

"Us," said Tanya. "We take it in turns. Geri did the Swooning Specials - we both tried the Bloodynose Bon-Bons - "

"Sarabi thought we'd been duelling," said Geri.

"Joke shop still on, then?" I muttered, pretending to be adjusting the nozzle on my spray.

"Well, we haven't had a chance to get premises yet," said Tanya, dropping her voice even lower as Grandmother Sarabi mopped her brow with her scarf before returning to the attack, "so we're running it as a mail-order service at the moment. We put advertisements in the _Daily Squabbler_ last week."

"All thanks to you, girl," said Geri. "But don't worry ... Sarabi hasn't got a clue. She won't read the _Daily Squabbler_ any more, 'cause of it telling lies about you and Aunt Sue."

I grinned. I had forced the Fang twins to take the thousand Galleons prize money I had won in the Triwizard Tournament to help them realise their ambition to open a joke shop, but I was still glad to know that my part in furthering their plans was unknown to Grandmother Sarabi. I don't know whether it was because she had been raising me for fourteen years or not, but I think that my dear Grandmother Sarabi was becoming a mother during that time, because from what Tanya and Geri were saying, she did not think running a joke shop was a suitable career for the twins to take.

The de-Doxying of the curtains took most of the morning. It was past midday when Grandmother Sarabi finally removed her protective scarf, sank into a sagging armchair and sprang up again with a cry of disgust, having sat on the bag of dead rats. The curtains were no longer buzzing; they hung limp and damp from the intensive spraying. At the foot of them unconscious Doxys lay crammed in the bucket beside a bowl of their black eggs, at which Lucifer was now sniffing and Tanya and Geri were shooting covetous looks.

"I think we'll tackle _those_ after lunch," Grandmother Sarabi pointed at the dusty glass-fronted cabinets standing on the either side of the mantelpiece. They were crammed with an odd assortment of objects: a selection of rusty daggers, claws, a coiled snakeskin, a number of tarnished silver boxes inscribed with languages I could not understand and, least pleasant of all, an ornate crystal bottle with a large opal set into the stopper, full of what I was quite sure was blood.

The clanging doorbell rang again. We all looked at Grandmother Sarabi.

"Stay here," she said firmly, snatching the bag of dead rats as Mrs Warts' screeches started up again from below. "I'll bring up some sandwiches."

"We'll come and help you, Mother," Daddy said, pointing to him and Mum. "Come on, Nala."

They left the room, Mum closing the door carefully behind her. At once, we all dashed over to the window to look down on the doorstep. We could see the top of an unkempt gingery head and a stack of precariously balanced cauldrons.

"Mona!" said Sian. "What's she brought all those cauldrons for?"

"Probably looking for a place to keep them," I said. "Isn't that what she was doing the night she was supposed to be tailing me? Picking up dodgy cauldrons?"

"Yeah, you're right!" said Tanya, as the front door opened; Mona heaved her cauldrons through it and disappeared from view. "Blimey, Sarabi won't like that ..."

She and Geri crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely. Mrs Warts' screaming had stopped.

"Mona is talking to Simba, Nala, Pumbaa and Kara," Tanya muttered, frowning with concentration. "Can't hear properly ... d'you reckon we can risk the Electronic Ears?"

"Might be worth it," said Geri. "I could sneak upstairs and get a pair - "

But at that precise moment there was an explosion of sound from downstairs that rendered Electronic Ears quite unnecessary. All of us could hear exactly what Grandmother Sarabi was shouting at the top of her voice.

"WE ARE NOT RUNNING A HIDEOUT FOR STOLEN GOODS!"

"You know, it's nice to hear someone apart from me shout for a change," said Sian with a satisfied smile, as Tanya opened the door an inch or so to allow my grandmother's voice to penetrate the room better. We all looked at Sian in surprise.

"But ... I thought you liked being in charge, S.D.?" I said.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Kiara," she said, "I do. It's just that I it's nice to let someone else have control of the ball every once in a while. It saves me a job or two, that's for sure."

" - COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE, AS IF WE HAVEN'T GOT ENOUGH TO WORRY ABOUT WITHOUT YOU DRAGGING STOLEN CAULDRONS INTO THE HOUSE - "

"Those idiots are letting her get into her stride," I said, shaking my head.

"Oh, even I know that's a big mistake," said Sian.

"How d'you know that?" I said.

"Because, sweetie, whenever someone gets the dominant female of the house all worked up, she builds up a head of steam and goes on for hours. I should know, I've done it many times before with Chrissie when both of my parents were working, and I was in charge of the Manor."

I looked at Chrissie.

"It's true, she did," she said, shrugging. I nodded, and turned back to the door.

"Yeah, and besides," said Geri, "Sarabi's been dying to have a go at Mona ever since she sneaked off when she was supposed to be following you, Kiara - and there goes Pumbaa's mum again."

Grandmother Sarabi's voice was lost amid fresh shrieks and screams from the portraits in the hall.

Geri made to shut the door to drown the noise, but before she could do so, a house-elf edged into the room.

Except for the filthy rags covering her breasts and around her middle, it was completely naked. It looked very old. Its skin seemed to be several times too big for it and, though it was bald like all house-elves, there was a large quantity of white hair growing out of its large, batlike ears. Its eyes were a bloodshot and watery grey and its fleshy nose was large and rather snoutlike.

The elf took absolutely no notice of myself or the others. Acting as though it could not see us, it shuffled hunchbacked, slowly and doggedly, towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under its breath in a hoarse, croaky voice like a frog's.

" ... smells like a drain and a criminal to boot, but she's no better, nasty old blood traitor with a bunch of blood traitor brats messing up my mistress' house, oh, my poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kleaner, oh, the shame of it, Sackbrains and werewolves and Mudbloods and traitors and thieves, poor old Kleaner, what can she do ..."

"Hello, Kleaner," said Tanya very loudly, closing the door with a snap.

The house-elf froze in her tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very pronounced and very unconvincing start of surprise.

"Kleaner did not see young mistress," she said, turning around and curtseying to Tanya. Still facing the carpet, she added, perfectly audibly, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."

"Sorry?" said Geri. "Didn't catch that last bit."

"Kleaner said nothing," said the elf, with a second curtsey to Geri, adding in a clear undertone, "and there's its twin, unnatural little beasts they are."

I didn't know whether to laugh or not. The elf straightened up, eyeing us all malevolently, and apparently convinced that we could not hear her as she continued to mutter.

" ... and there's the Sackbrain, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, and there's a new girl, Kleaner doesn't know her name. What is she doing here? Kleaner doesn't know ..."

"This is Kiara Pride-Lander, Kleaner," said Sian tentatively. "Kiara Pride-Lander."

Kleaner's pale eyes widened and she muttered faster and more furiously than ever.

"The Sackbrain is talking to Kleaner as though she is my friend, if Kleaner's mistress saw her in such company, oh, what would she say - "

"Don't call our sister a Sackbrain!" said Chris and Chrissie together, very angrily.

"It doesn't matter," Sian whispered, "she's not in her right mind, she doesn't know what she's - "

"Don't kid yourself, Sian, she knows _exactly_ what she's saying," said Tanya, eyeing Kleaner with great dislike.

Kleaner was still muttering, her eyes now fixed on me.

"Is it true? Is it Kiara Pride-Lander? Kleaner can see the scar on her head, it must be true, that's the girl who stopped the Scarlet Lady, Kleaner wonders how she did it - "

"Don't we all, Kleaner," said Tanya.

"What do you want, anyway?" Geri asked.

"Kleaner is cleaning," she said evasively.

"A likely story," said a voice behind me.

Pumbaa and my parents had come back; he was glowering at the elf from the doorway. The noise in the hall had abated; perhaps Grandmother Sarabi and Mona had moved their argument down into the kitchen. At the sight of Pumbaa, Kleaner flung herself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened her snoutlike nose on the floor.

"Stand up straight," said Pumbaa impatiently. "Now, what are you up to?"

"Kleaner is cleaning," the elf repeated. "Kleaner lives to serve the Noble House of Warts - "

"And it's getting wartier every day, it's filthy," said Pumbaa.

"Master always liked his little joke," said Kleaner, curtseying again and continuing in an undertone, "Master was a nasty ungrateful swine who broke his mother's heart - "

"My mother didn't have a heart, Kleaner," snapped Pumbaa. "she kept herself alive out of pure spite."

"Now, hold on, Pumbaa," my father said, as Kleaner curtseyed again. "Don't speak so harshly to her - "

"Hang on, Simba," Mum interrupted. "Let's see where this is going." My father stared at her incredulously as Kleaner spoke again.

"Whatever Master says," she muttered furiously. "Master is not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw Kleaner serving him, how she hated him, what a disappointment he was - "

"I asked you what you were up to," said Pumbaa coldly. "Every time you show up pretending to be cleaning, you sneak something off to your room so we can't throw it out."

"Kleaner would never move anything from its proper place in Master's house," said the elf, then muttered very fast, "Mistress would never forgive Kleaner if the tapestry was thrown out, seven centuries it's been in the family, Kleaner will not let Master and the blood traitors and the brats destroy it - "

"I thought it might be that," said Pumbaa, casting a disdainful look at the opposite wall. "She'll have put another Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of it, I don't doubt, but if I can get rid of it I certainly will. Now go away, Kleaner."

It seemed that Kleaner did not dare disobey a direct order; nevertheless, the look she gave Pumbaa as she shuffled out past him was full of deepest loathing and she muttered all the way out of the room.

" - comes back, inviting those brats who escaped from Azkaban, ordering Kleaner around, oh, my poor mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say his friends, Kiara Pride-Lander's parents, were are murderers too - "

"Keep muttering like that, and one of us will be a murderer!" Mum snarled, as Pumbaa slammed the door shut on the elf.

"Pumbaa, she's not right in the head," Sian pleaded. "I don't think she realises we can hear her."

"She's been alone too long," said Pumbaa, "taking mad orders from my mother's portrait and talking to herself, but she was always a foul little - "

"If you could just set her free," Sian said hopefully, "maybe - "

"We can't set her free, she knows too much about the Order," said Pumbaa curtly. "And anyway, the shock would kill her. You suggest to her that she leaves this house, see how she takes it."

Pumbaa walked across the room to where the tapestry Kleaner had been trying to protect hung the length of the wall. The others and I followed.

The tapestry looked immensely old; it was faded and looked as though Doxys had gnawed it in places. Nevertheless, the golden thread with which it was embroidered still glinted brightly enough to show us a sprawling family tree dating back (as far as I could tell) to the Middle Ages. Large words at the very top of the tapestry read:

 _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Warts_

 _"Sans cesse pollwe"_

"You're not on here?" I said, after scanning the bottom of the tree closely.

"I used to be there," said Pumbaa, pointing at a small, round, charred hole in the tapestry, rather like a cigarette burn. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home - Kleaner's quite fond of muttering the story under her breath."

"You ran away from home?"

"When I was about sixteen," said Pumbaa. "I'd had enough."

"Where did you go?" I asked, staring at him.

"Timon's place," Mum said. I looked at her. "Timon's mother and his Uncle Max were really good about it (well, his mother was); they sort of adopted him as a second son."

"That's right," Pumbaa gruffed. "I camped out at Timon's in the school holidays, and when I was seventeen I got a place of my own. My uncle Andile had left me a decent bit of gold - he's been wiped off here, too, that's probably why - anyway, after that I looked after myself. I was always welcome at Mrs Meers' for Sunday lunch, though."

"But ... why did you ... ?"

"Leave?" Pumbaa smiled bitterly and ran his fingers through his long black hair. "Because I hated the whole lot of 'em: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Warts made you practically royal ... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them ... that's him."

Pumbaa jabbed a finger at the very bottom of the tree, at the name "Okoro Warts". A date of death (some fifteen years previously) followed the date of birth.

"He was younger than me," said Pumbaa, "and a much better son, as I was constantly reminded."

"But he died," I said.

"Yeah," said Pumbaa. "Stupid idiot ... he joined the Love Destroyers."

"You're kidding!"

"Come on, Kiara, haven't you seen enough of this house to tell what kind of wizards his family was?" Mum said testily.

"Were - were your parents Love Destroyers as well, Pumbaa?"

"No, no, but believe me, they thought Zira had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and Bright-brains and having pure-bloods and dim-wits in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Zira showed her true colours, who thought she had the right idea about things ... they got cold feet when they saw what she was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Okoro was a right little hero for joining up at first."

"Was he killed by an Auror?" I asked tentatively.

"Oh, no," said Pumbaa. "No, he was murdered by Zira. Or on Zira's orders, more likely; I doubt Okoro was ever important enough to be killed by Zira in person. From what I found out after she died, she got in so far, then panicked about what she was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand your resignation to Zira. It's a lifetime of servitude or death."

"Lunch," said Grandmother Sarabi's voice.

She was holding her wand high in front of her, a huge tray loaded with sandwiches and cake on its tip. She was very red in the face and still looked angry. The others moved over to her, eager for some food. Pumbaa cast a disdainful look at the tapestry before he moved too, but I remained behind with my parents, who both moved closer to me.

"Do you know about this, Daddy?" I asked him.

"Yes, I do," he said. "Pumbaa showed it to your mother and I the moment we got here, and told us all about it. So, let's see ... There's Philomena Naenia - Pumbaa's great-great-grandmother, see? ... least popular Headmistress Dragon Mort's ever had ... and Aphroditus Marquis ... cousin of his mother's ... tried to force through a Bill to make Bright-brain hunting legal ... and his dear uncle Eadwig ... he started Pumbaa's family tradition of beheading house-elves when they got too old to carry tea trays ... of course, any time his family produced someone halfway decent they were disowned. I see Todd isn't on here. Maybe that's why Kleaner won't take orders from her - she's supposed to do whatever anyone in Pumbaa's family asks her - "

"Pumbaa and Todd are related?" I asked.

"Yes, Aberash was Pumbaa's favourite cousin," said Daddy. "And she's not on here either, look - "

He pointed to another small burn mark between two names, Katalina and Latchna.

"Aberash's brother and sister are still here because they made lovely respectable pure-blood marriages, but Aberash married a Muggle-born, Tim Todd, so - "

My father mimed blasting the tapestry with a wand and shook his head sadly. I didn't smile, either; I was too busy staring at the names to the right of Aberash's burn mark. A double line of gold embroidery linked Latchna Malty with Nerissa Ashworth, and a single vertical gold line from their names led to the name Danielle, and a line joined up her Nerissa and her sister, Chantelle Ashworth, who married Andrew Rea-Bradley, and a single vertical line led to the name Keziah.

"Pumbaa's related to the Malty's and the Rea-Bradley's!"

"The pure-blood families are all interrelated," said Daddy. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left. I came from a pure-blood family, and I know that Pumbaa and I are cousins by marriage and Matthew's something like my second cousin once removed and Crighton is my cousin twice removed. But there's no point looking for the Dawsons on here - if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors, it's them."

But I was looking at the name on the left of Aberash'a burn: Katalina Outsider, which was connected by a double line to Nuka Outsider.

"Outsider," I said aloud. The name stirred something in my memory; I knew it from somewhere, but for a moment I couldn't think where, though it gave me an odd, creeping sensation in the pit of my stomach.

"Katalina Malty married Nuka Outsider sometime after she had been brought into Azkaban," said my father shortly.

I looked at him curiously.

"She was meant to have been brought in with Bea Clutch Junior," said Daddy, in the same brusque voice. "But she escaped the Ministry's clutches and lay in hiding for three years, after which, she was captured and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, not just for helping Clutch and the others, but for an attempted murder on a four-year-old girl, too."

Then I remembered. I hadn't seen Katalina Outsider, but I had heard one of the Love Destroyers who had been captured, in Crighton's Pensieve, the strange device which thoughts and memories could be stored: a tall nervous-looking man (well, nervous when I saw him in the Pensieve that time, anyway), who had stood at his trial and proclaimed his and Katalina's continuing allegiance to Lady Zira, and he took pride in telling the Ministry that Katalina took pride in trying to find her mistress even after Zira's downfall and his conviction that Katalina would one day be rewarded for her loyalty.

"You never said she was Pumbaa's cousin - "

"Does it matter if she's my cousin?" Pumbaa snapped behind me, with a sandwich in his hand. "As far as I'm concerned, she isn't part of my family. I haven't seen her in years. D'you think I'm proud of having a relative like her?"

"Sorry," I said quickly, "I didn't mean - I was just surprised, that's all - "

"It doesn't matter, don't apologise," Pumbaa mumbled. He turned away from the tapestry and took a rather angry bite out of his sandwich. "I don't like being here," he said, staring across the drawing room. "I never thought I'd be stuck in this house again."

At first, I didn't understand completely what he was talking about. After all, I grew up in a warm and loving household - well, apart from the times when I was dragged to the Smiths' house and locked in their attic. And then I understood what Pumbaa meant, for I shuddered at the thought of having to live with the Smiths all my life.

"It's ideal for Headquarters, of course," Pumbaa said. "My father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. It's unplottable, so Muggles never come here and call - as if they'd ever have wanted to - and now Crighton's added her protection, you'd be hard put to find a safer house anywhere. Crighton's Secret Keeper for the Order, you know - nobody can find Headquarters unless she tells them personally where it is - that note Grumpy showed you last night, that was from Crighton ..." Pumbaa gave a short, snorted laugh. "If my parents could see the use their house was being put to now ... well, my mother's portrait should give you some idea ..."

He scowled for a moment, sighed, and walked back over to where the others were. My father then looked at me.

"You know, Kiara, your mother and I have been talking, and we've recently been discussing whether or not we could get out occasionally and do something useful. We've asked Crighton whether we can escort you to your hearing - in dog forms as Leo and Leona, obviously - so we can give you a bit of moral support, what d'you think?"

I felt as though my stomach had sunk through the dusty carpet at that moment. I had not thought about the hearing once since dinner the previous evening; in the excitement of being with the people I loved and liked best, and hearing everything that was going on, it had completely fled my mind. At my father's words, however, the crushing sense of dread returned to me. I stared at Tanya, Geri and all the Dawsons, all tucking into their sandwiches, and thought how I would feel if they were to go back to Dragon Mort without me. And I have to tell you, it felt awful. And wrong. So very, very wrong.

"Don't worry," Daddy said softly. I looked up and realised that he and Mum had both been staring at me. "I'm sure they'll clear you; there's definitely something in the International Statue of Secrecy about being allowed to use magic to save your own life."

"But if they do expel me," I said quietly, "can you and Mum and my grandmothers all live together in their cottage?"

Daddy smiled sadly.

"We'll see."

"I hate this," I said. I then hugged him tightly. "I hate us not living together as a family. I'd feel much better about the hearing if I knew I wasn't going to go there without you and Mum with me."

My father sighed sadly and put his arms around me.

"I know you do, Kiara," he said gently, rubbing my back. "I know you do. You know, your mother and I feel the same way about us not living together."

I looked up at him in shock. "Really?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course we do. Ever since your mother and I flew on Noelani away from the Ministry and the Stingers, our main goal has been to be a family again with you. Well, second for your mother, actually."

"She's still intent on getting her revenge on the Absters, isn't she?"

My father nodded sadly, as Grandmother Sarabi called, "Hurry up, you three, or there won't be any food left!"

My father heaved a heavy sigh and kissed me gently on the forehead before he let me go, and he, Mum and I went to join the others.

I tried my best not to think about the hearing while we were emptying the glass-fronted cabinets that afternoon. Fortunately for me, it was a job that required a lot of concentration, as many of the objects in there seemed very reluctant to leave their dusty shelves. Pumbaa sustained a bad bite from a silver snuffbox; within seconds his bitten hand had developed an unpleasant crusty covering like a tough brown glove.

"It's OK," he said, examining the hand with interest before tapping it lightly with his wand and restoring its skin to normal, "must be Wartcap powder in there."

He threw the box into the sack where we were depositing the debris from the cabinets; I saw Geri wrap her own hand carefully in a cloth moments later and sneak the box into her already Doxy-filled pocket.

We found an unpleasant-looking silver instrument, something like a many-legged pair of tweezers, which scuttled up my arm like a spider when I picked it up, and attempted to puncture my skin. My father seized it and smashed it with a heavy book entitled _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and we all found ourselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy, until Chris had the sense to slam the lid shut; a heavy locket that none of us could open; a number of ancient seals; and, in a dusty box, an Order of Merlin, First Class, that had been awarded to Pumbaa's grandfather for "services to the Ministry".

"It means he gave them a lot of gold," said Pumbaa contemptuously, throwing the medal into the rubbish sack.

Several times Kleaner sidled into the room and attempted to smuggled things away under her rags, muttering horrible curses every time we caught her at it. When Pumbaa wrested a large golden ring bearing the Warts crest from her grip, Kleaner actually burst into furious tears and left the room sobbing under her breath and calling Pumbaa names I had never heard before.

"It was my father's," said Pumbaa, throwing the ring into the sack. "Kleaner wasn't _quite_ as devoted to him as to my mother, but I still caught her snogging a pair of my father's old trousers last week."

0000

Grandmother Sarabi kept us all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate. Finally, the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Warts family tree, which resisted all our attempts to remove it from the wall, and the rattling writing desk. Grumpy had not dropped by Headquarters yet, so we could not be sure what was inside it.

We moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where we found spiders as large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Chrissie left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for an hour and a half). The china, which bore the Warts crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Pumbaa, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

Triphorm might have referred to our work as "cleaning", but in my opinion we were really waging war on the house, which was putting up a very good fight, aided and abetted by Kleaner. The house-elf kept appearing wherever we were congregated, her muttering becoming more and more offensive as she attempted to remove anything she could from the rubbish sacks. Pumbaa went as far as to threaten her with clothes, but Kleaner fixed her with a watery stare and said, "Master must do as Master wishes," before turning away and muttering very loudly, "but Master will not turn Kleaner away, no, because Kleaner knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Scarlet Lady, yes, with these Mudbloods and Sackbrains and traitors and scum ..."

At which Pumbaa, ignoring Sian's protests, seized Kleaner by the back of her rags and threw her bodily from the room.

The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Pumbaa's mother to start shrieking again, and for myself and the others to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though we gleaned very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation we were able to sneak before Grandmother Sarabi recalled us to our tasks. Triphorm flitted in and out of the house several times more, though to my relief we never came face to face; I also caught sight of my Transfiguration teacher Professor Darbus, looking very odd in a Muggle dress and coat, and she also seemed too busy to linger. Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help. Todd joined us for a memorable afternoon in which we found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Meers, who was staying in the house with Pumbaa but who left it for long periods to do mysterious work for the Order, helped us repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passers-by. Mona redeemed herself slightly in Grandmother Sarabi's eyes (as well as my parents') by rescuing Chrissie from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle her when she removed them from their wardrobe.

Despite the fact that I still slept badly, and that I was having continuous dreams about corridors and locked doors that made my scar prickle, I remember that for the first time that summer, that I was actually having fun. As long as I kept myself busy, I was happy; it was when the action abated, whenever I would let down my guard, or lay exhausted in bed, watching blurred shadows move across the ceiling, that the thought of the looming Ministry hearing would return to me, often following me into dreams - dreams where, no matter how it started, the ending would always be the same: I got told by some faceless Ministry official that I had been expelled from Dragon Mort, before I would leave to follow the corridors and locked doors, before I would wake up in a cold sweat, think about where I was, remember that it was just a dream, before I would breathe a huge sigh of relief, thank God that it was indeed just a dream, then lay back down and just lie there for hours in worry. The fear that followed me into my dreams remained with me awake too, jabbing at my insides like needles, as I wondered what would happen to me if I was expelled. The idea was so terrible that I did not dare voice it aloud, not even to Chris, Sian, Chrissie, my parents or Grandmother Sarabi, who, though I often saw them whispering together - in their separate groups, of course - and casting anxious looks in my direction, followed my lead in not mentioning it. Sometimes, the faceless Ministry official from my dreams often appeared when I was awake, too; for I pictured them snapping my wand in two and ordering me back to my grandmothers' cottage ... and I would go - only if my parents could come with us.

I felt as though a brick had dropped into my stomach when Grandmother Sarabi turned to me during dinner the eve of my hearing and said quietly, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Kiara, and I want you to have a bath tonight, too. A good first impression can work wonders, you know."

The Dawsons, Tanya, Geri and Kopa all stopped talking and looked over at me. I just nodded, and tried to keep eating my chop, but my mouth had gone so dry that I could not chew.

"How am I getting there?" I asked Grandmother Sarabi, trying my best to sound casual and unconcerned.

It was Sian who answered, however. "Dad called Joey from home. He'll be driving the pair of you to the Ministry tomorrow."

I turned to Mr Dawson, who smiled encouragingly at me from across the table.

"And don't forget about me," said Grandmother Sarabi, drawing my attention back on her. "I'll be there with you, too."

My eyes widened with delight at this. "Really, Grandmother?"

Grandmother Sarabi chuckled. "Yes, sweetie, really. I spoke about it with Crighton, and she says it's fine for me to go with you."

"You can both wait with me until it's time for the hearing," said Mr Dawson.

I looked over to my parents, but before I could ask the question, Grandmother Sarabi answered it.

"Professor Crighton doesn't think it's a good idea for your parents to go with us, and I must say I - "

" - think she's _quite right_ ," Mum sneered.

Grandmother Sarabi pursed her lips, as my father stared at my mother in shock.

"When did Crighton tell you this?" I said, staring at my parents.

"She came last night, when you were in bed," said Mr Dawson.

My mother stabbed moodily at her plate with her fork; my father tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she just shrugged it off. My father then turned his eyes on me, and gave me an apologetic shrug. I saw Kopa's eyes gazing warily at my parents, which, now that I think about it, showed that he was a good ... person for noticing, but back then I thought it was odd, for I was confused as to why he would care so much for people he hardly knew. But I didn't think about that for long. I lowered my eyes back to my plate, for the thought that Crighton had been in the house on the eve of my hearing, and had not even asked to see me, made me feel, if possible, even worse than I felt at the time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **The Ministry of Magic**

 **KIARA**

 **AN: Hi, everyone. This is one of my favourite chapters in the whole series to write, because we go into the Ministry of Magic, and you will see some of the changes, some of them you probably won't agree with me on, but I like them, so I'm keeping them that way. There's also a talk between the old hero and the new hero in this. Harry's a little older and wiser due to his experiences - you'll understand more once you read it. Enjoy.**

The day of my hearing had arrived. I remember waking up that morning at half past five as abruptly and completely as if somebody had yelled in my ear. For a few moments I lay immobile as the prospect of the disciplinary hearing filled every tiny particle of my brain. Then, unable to bear it any longer, I leapt out of bed and brushed a few strands of hair out of my eyes. Grandmother Sarabi had laid out my freshly laundered trousers, blouse and blazer (trouser suit: black, blouse: white) at the foot of my bed, along with some smart, and rather comfortable, polished black shoes, that were by my bed. I scrambled into them. The blank portrait on the wall sniggered.

Chrissie was sprawled on her back with an arm draped over her eyes and her mouth slightly open, fast asleep. She did not stir as I crossed the room, stepped out on to the landing and closed the door softly behind me. Trying hard not to think about the next time I would see Chrissie, when we might (have?) no longer be fellow students at Dragon Mort, I walked quietly down the stairs, past the heads of Kleaner's ancestors, and down into the kitchen.

I had expected it to be empty, but when I reached the door I heard the soft rumble of voices on the other side. I pushed it open and saw Grandmother Sarabi, my parents, Mr Dawson, Pumbaa, Meers, Todd and Sian, sitting there almost as though they were waiting for me. All were fully dressed except for Sian, who was wearing a blue silk dressing-gown and had her ear phones in. I think she was listening to music on her I-pod. Anyhoo, she took them out and jumped to her feet the moment I entered, as did Grandmother Sarabi.

"Breakfast," they agreed simultaneously, as they hurried over to the fire, Grandmother Sarabi pulling out her wand as she went.

"Sian, what're you doing up so early?" I asked her, surprised.

"Oh, I wanted to make sure I was up early enough to wish you luck," she said over her shoulder simply with a small smile, before she turned back to her task. I smiled back at her before I turned my attentions to the table at large.

"M-m-morning, Kiara," yawned Todd. Her hair was dirty blonde, styled in a pixie cut, and was rather ruffled that morning. "Sleep all right?"

"Yeah," I said.

"I've b-b-been up all night," she said, with another shuddering yawn. "Come and sit down ..."

She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process.

"What do you want, Kiara?" Sian called. "Porridge? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?"

"Just - just toast, thanks," I said.

Meers glanced at me, then said to Todd, "What were you saying about Scrimwhazz?"

"Oh ... yeah ... well, we need to be a bit more careful, she's been asking Kara, Harry, Matt and me some funny questions ..."

I remember feeling vaguely grateful that I was not required to join in the conversation. My insides were squirming uncomfortably. Sian placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of me; I tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Sian sat back in her original seat, as Grandmother Sarabi stood behind me and started fussing with my blouse, tucking in the label and smoothing out the creases across my shoulders. Oh, how I wish she wouldn't - not only because I was too old to have this sort of fussing, but also because I distinctly remember my mother watching us through narrowed eyes. Although, looking back, I think Grandmother Sarabi did this because it was all she could do to comfort herself.

" ... and I'll have to tell Crighton I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t-t-too tired," Todd finished, yawning largely again.

"I'll cover for you," said Mr Dawson. "I'm OK, I've got a report to finish anyway."

Mr Dawson didn't wear wizards' robes that day, but a pair of pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket, and Grandmother Sarabi wore a vertically striped black-and-white dress with a black blazer and black high heeled shoes to match. She also had her hair tightly pinned up. Mr Dawson then turned from Todd to me, as Grandmother Sarabi continued with her fussing.

"How are you feeling?"

I shrugged.

"It'll all be over soon," Mr Dawson said bracingly. "In a few hours' time, you'll be cleared."

I didn't say anything.

"The hearing's on my floor, in Arnold Bongo's office. He's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the one who'll be questioning you."

"Arnold Bongo's OK, Kiara," said Todd earnestly. "He's fair, he'll hear you out."

I nodded, for I was still unable to think of anything to say.

"Don't lose your temper," said Daddy abruptly. "Be polite and stick to the facts."

"Listen to your father, Kiara," Mum said. "Also, remember that you are in the right, and had good intentions for what you did."

I nodded again.

"The law's on your side," said Meers quietly. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."

"They're right, y'know, kid," Pumbaa said, in his gruff voice. "Trust your gut, and you can't go wrong. It's what I've always done. that's why I am the way I am today." He patted his large belly twice to prove it, and winked at me. Everyone around the table laughed, except me, but that was due to nerves.

It was then that I felt a pair of hands, pins and a hairbrush work vigorously at my hair, and I quickly realised that Grandmother Sarabi was brushing my hair and pinning it up in order to make me look presentable.

Mr Dawson checked his watch and looked over at Grandmother Sarabi and I.

"I think we'll go now," he said. "We're a bit early, but I think you'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here."

"OK," I said automatically, dropping my toast and getting to my feet, as Grandmother Sarabi grabbed her purse from the bench.

"You'll be all right, Kiara," said Todd, patting my arm.

"Good luck," said Meers. "I'm sure it will be fine."

"And if it's not," said Mum grimly, "I'll see to Arnold Bongo for you."

"But let's hope that doesn't happen," said Daddy shakily, giving my mother a stern eye.

"You've got this, kid," said Pumbaa. "We believe in you."

I smiled weakly as my parents hugged me.

"You'll be just fine," said Mum.

"Remember, Kiara," my father said, "the truth will set you free, whereas lies will get you nowhere."

I nodded at him. Sian then came forward and hugged me.

"Right," she said sharply, "not only have we all got our fingers crossed, but I want you to keep your chin up, your shoulders back and to keep your head held high. Trust your heart, and keep your temper under the boil. If you follow all this, that hearing'll be over in no time at all. Trust me."

"Right," I said. "Well ... see you later, then."

I followed Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi upstairs and along the hall. I heard Pumbaa's mother grunting in her sleep behind her curtains. Mr Dawson unbolted the door and the three of us stepped out into the cold, grey dawn.

"You don't normally walk to work, do you?" I asked him, as we set off down the drive.

"No, I usually Apparate," said Mr Dawson, "but obviously you can't, Kiara, and I think it's best if we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion ... makes a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for ... that's why I've got Joey to drive us ... oh, look, he's waiting for us ..."

I looked ahead to where Mr Dawson was pointing, and indeed, Joey was there, dressed in black, standing beside the Dawsons' recently new black car (which they had to get done for, as some of you will remember, Chrissie and I drove it into the Bashing Tree in our second year). He tipped his hat off to us when he saw us and ushered us all in. Grandmother Sarabi and I got into the back, and Mr Dawson sat in the front passenger seat.

"Visitor's Entrance at the Ministry, please, Joey, and step on it," was all Mr Dawson said to him.

"Right y'are, Mr D.," Joey said, and with that, Joey started the car and we were off to London.

Normally, it would have taken us an hour and thirty-six minutes, but seeing as we set off at around six in the morning and there was virtually no traffic on the roads, we made it to the Ministry in just over an hour. Joey had the radio on, but I hardly listened to it. I just gazed out the window, not thinking about anything, whilst feeling Grandmother Sarabi's hand on mine.

I was jerked out of my non-existent thoughts by Joey, who said over an hour later, "'Ere we are then, Mr D."

I looked around, and saw that we were in a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub and an overflowing skip. I had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic, and judging by the look on Grandmother Sarabi's face, so had she.

After Mr Dawson had given Joey some instructions on where to park, and that he would call him when we were finished, we got out of the car. Grandmother Sarabi and I followed Mr Dawson to an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. After you, Kiara, Sarabi."

He opened the telephone box door.

Grandmother Sarabi and I stepped inside. I didn't know what was going through her head, but all I could think was what on earth was this about? Mr Dawson folded himself in beside Grandmother Sarabi and closed the door. It was a tight fit; I was jammed between Grandmother Sarabi and the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Mr Dawson reached rather awkwardly for the receiver.

"Mr Dawson, I think this might be out of order," I said.

"Yes, I agree, Matthew," said Grandmother Sarabi. "This doesn't seem right to me."

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr Dawson, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see ... six ..." he dialled the number," two ... four ... another four ... and another two ..."

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr Dawson's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman was standing right beside us.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er ..." said Mr Dawson, clearly uncertain whether or not he should talk into the receiver. He compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Matthew Dawson, Auror Department, here to escort Kiara Pride-Lander, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing, and Sarabi Pride-Lander, who is Kiara Pride-Lander's grandmother and supporting relative ..."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and I saw two small things slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. I picked them up: they were silver badges with _Kiara Pride-Lander, Disciplinary Hearing_ on mine, and _Sarabi Pride-Lander, Supporting Relative_ on hers. I passed Grandmother Sarabi her badge, and she pinned her badge to the front of her blazer, just as I did with mine, as the cool female voice spoke again.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. We were sinking slowly into the ground. I watched apprehensively as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over our heads. Then I saw nothing at all; the only thing that I heard was the dull grinding noise of the telephone box as it made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, though it felt much longer than that to me at the time, a chink of gold light illuminated my feet and, widening, rose up my body, until it hit me in the face and I had to blink to stop my eyes from watering; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grandmother Sarabi doing the same.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr Dawson stepped out of it, followed by Grandmother Sarabi and myself. I heard her gasp of awe as my jaw dropped.

We were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wooden floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds, a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft _whoosh_. On the right-hand side, short queues were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. Three golden statues, a witch and two wizards, all larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. The witch had bushy hair and was holding a book in one arm, and had her wand pointed in the air, just like the two wizards, which met at the tips. The wizard on the right-hand side of the witch was the tallest of the trio: long and lanky, with a long nose and freckles, who, in his free hand held a Chocolate Frog. the wizard on the left-hand side of the witch was skinny and of above-average height. He had messy hair, almond-shaped eyes and glasses, and on the middle of his forehead I could just make out a thin, lightning-shaped scar, and in his free hand he held another wand, although I did not understand what that was about (although Grandmother Sarabi did tell me later on that it was the wand he had in his hands that was the last wand that Voldemort used, and that Harry caught it in their last battle). They were smiling at each other. Where their wands met, instead of sparks shooting out, glittering jets of water were flying out of them and were cascading into the pool below, so that the tinkering hiss of the falling water was added to the _pops_ and _cracks_ of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

I didn't recognise who the other two were, but I immediately knew who the second wizard was, for I had seen him on a Multi-Flavoured Fruit Frog card four years ago. He was - of course - Harry Potter, and his two friends, Ron and Hermione Weasley-nee, Granger.

"Is that ... ?" I asked in awe, as I looked up at the three heroes of the wizarding world.

"Yes, sweetie," Grandmother Sarabi said gently next to me. "That's Harry Potter, and his friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger - well, Weasley now, seeing as she and Ron got married a few years ago."

"This statue was created to remind everyone that while there is darkness and dark people in this world, there will always be those there to fight it," Mr Dawson said. He paused, shrugged and continued, "Well, that and also to celebrate the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and to show the unity between them." He clapped me on the shoulder, smiled at me and said, "And someday soon, my dear girl, that will be you."

I felt a little uncomfortable at this remark. Sure, it feels nice to be appreciated, but I just didn't like the attention that went with it, I still don't but that can't be helped; it's the "Curse of Fame", as Sian calls it. Anyhoo, Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi chuckled at whatever expression was on my face.

"What's so funny?" I asked, puzzled.

"Nothing," said Mr Dawson. "Come on, you two. Right this way."

Grandmother Sarabi and I followed Mr Dawson and joined the throng, wending our way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases; still, others were reading the _Daily Prophet_ or the _Daily Squabbler_ while they walked. As we passed the fountain I saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at me from the bottom of the pool. Two small signs were beside it. The first one read:

THIS STATUE GIVES THANKS TO HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED, AND HIS BEST FRIENDS, RONALD WEASLEY AND HERMIONE GRANGER, WHO TOGETHER HELPED RID THE WORLD OF LORD VOLDEMORT AND HIS FOLLOWERS. LONG LIVE THE GOLDEN TRIO!

And the sign beneath that read:

ALL PROCEEDS FROM THE FOUNTAIN OF THE GOLDEN TRIO WILL BE GIVEN TO ST MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES.

 _If I'm not expelled from Dragon Mort, I'll put in ten Galleons_ , I found myself thinking desperately.

"Over here, Kiara, Sarabi," said Mr Dawson, and the three of us stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates. Seated at a desk to the left, beneath a sign saying _Security_ , a short-haired witch in peacock blue robes looked up as we approached and put down her copy of the _Daily Squabbler_.

"I'm escorting visitors," said Mr Dawson, indicating myself and Grandmother Sarabi.

"Stand over here," said the witch in a bored voice.

Grandmother Sarabi and I stepped closer to the witch and she held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial and passed it up and down Grandmother Sarabi's front and back first, before moving on to me.

Once this was done, the witch stated, "Wand," to Grandmother Sarabi, putting down the golden instrument and holding out her hand. Grandmother Sarabi drew out her wand and produced it to the witch, who dropped it on a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of the slit in the base. The witch tore this off and read the writing on it.

"Ten and a quarter inches, unicorn hair, been in use for forty-six years. That correct?"

"That's correct," Grandmother Sarabi answered.

The witch nodded, removed Grandmother Sarabi's wand and asked for mine. I handed her my wand, and the witch placed it on the scales, which vibrated once more, and another strip of parchment came speeding out.

"Ten inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use for four years. That correct?"

"Yes," I said nervously.

"I keep these," said the witch, impaling the slips of parchment on to two small brass spikes. "You get these back," she added, handing back over mine and Grandmother Sarabi's wands.

"Thank you," said Grandmother Sarabi. I just nodded.

"Hang on ..." said the witch slowly.

Her eyes darted from the silver badge on my chest to my forehead.

"Thank you, Erin," said Mr Dawson firmly, and grasping me by the shoulder, he steered me away from the desk and back into the stream of witches and wizards walking through the golden gates, with Grandmother Sarabi right behind us.

Jostled slightly by the crowd, Grandmother Sarabi and I followed Mr Dawson through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Grandmother Sarabi, Mr Dawson and I joined the crowd around one of them. Nearby, there was a tall woman who stood holding a large cardboard box, which emitted odd fizzing noises.

"All right, Matt?" said the witch, nodding at Mr Dawson.

"What've you got there, Barb?" said Mr Dawson, looking at the box.

"We're not sure," said the witch seriously. "We thought it was a bog-standard goose until it started spitting lightning. Looks like a serious branch of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."

With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of us; the golden grille slid back and Grandmother Sarabi, Mr Dawson and I stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd and I found myself jammed against the back wall. Several witches and wizards looked at me curiously; I stared at my feet to avoid catching anyone's eyes, trying to cover up my scar. I then felt Grandmother Sarabi's hand on my shoulder. I turned my head up to hers, and I saw her smiling an encouraging smile at me and mouthed the words: _Chin up_. I then remembered what Sian had told me earlier that morning, so I smiled at her gratefully and turned my head straightforward, trying not to let the stares bother me. The grilles then slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling, while the same cool female voice Grandmother Sarabi and I had heard in the telephone box rang out again.

"Level seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office."

The lift doors opened. I glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls. One of the wizards in the lift, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared down the corridor. The doors closed, the lift juddered upwards again and the woman's voice announced:

"Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office and Apparition Test Centre."

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper aeroplanes swooped into the lift. I stared up at them as they flapped idly around above my head; they were a pale violet colour and I saw _Ministry of Magic_ stamped along the edge of their wings.

"Just inter-departmental memos," Mr Dawson muttered to me. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable ... droppings all over the desks ..."

As we clattered upwards again the memos flapped around the lamp swaying from the lift's ceiling.

"Level Five, Department of International Magical Co-operation, incorporating the International Standards Trading Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

When the doors opened, two of the memos zoomed out with a few more of the witches and wizards, but several more memos zoomed in, so that the light from the lamp flickered and flashed overhead as they darted around it.

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, House-Elf Salvation Office, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau."

"S'cuse," said the witch carrying the lightning-spitting goose, and she left the lift, pursued by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.

"Level Three, Department of Magica Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

Everybody left except for Grandmother Sarabi, Mr Dawson, myself and a wizard who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the floor. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upwards again, then the doors opened and the voice made its announcement.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration services."

"This is us, Kiara, Sarabi," said Mr Dawson, and we followed the wizard out of the lift into a corridor lined with doors. My cubicle is just a little further along. Come on."

"Mr Dawson," I said, as we passed a window through which sunlight was streaming, "aren't we still underground?"

"Yes, we are," said Mr Dawson. "Those are enchanted windows. Magical Maintenance decides what weather we'll get every day. We had two months of hurricanes last time they were angling for a pay rise ... Just round here, Kiara, Sarabi."

We turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors and emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles, which were buzzing and talking with laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read: _Auror Headquarters_.

I looked surreptitiously through the doorways as we passed. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything, from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the _Daily Squabbler_ , and some of these articles were about Athena Amethyst Poenixclaw: The Girl who Saves the World (more about her next year, so remember her name). A coral-haired woman with hair longer than Crighton's was sitting with her hands drumming idly on the table, dictating a report to her quill. A little further along and we had reached Mr Dawson's cubicle.

"Here we are, then," he said, ushering myself and Grandmother Sarabi inside. "I know it's rather cramped, but it'll do."

In his cubicle was a desk and three chairs. Posted on the walls were things of maps with red pointers dotted, and a few pictures of my parents. There were also various diagrams of Muggle objects pasted, as well as several illustrations that appeared to have been cut out of Muggle children's books. On his desk beside his intray, there was a photograph of himself, Crighton and his children, including Max, from when they were younger.

"Well, make yourselves at home." Mr Dawson saw me looking at the maps and pictures of my parents and said, "Ah, Kara's leading the "search on your parents", Kiara, by saying they're in Turkey. Some of our finest Aurors are looking into it. I've got the paperwork side of things to sort through, but I don't mind."

Just then, a voice cut through. "Excuse me, Matthew? Have you got a moment?"

I turned around and stifled a gasp just as Mr Dawson said, "Of course, come in." For there, standing in the doorway, was a young man of above-average height, who wore glasses over his bright green, almond-shaped eyes, and had all-over-the-place hair, and in the middle of his forehead there was a thing, lightning-shaped scar. I knew who it was for I had seen the statue not ten minutes ago. It was Harry Potter!

He conversed with Mr Dawson for a few minutes, nodded at Grandmother Sarabi and then he turned to me with a double take of his head. He was just as astonished at seeing me as I was at seeing him. A questioning look on his face suddenly turned to realisation as to why I was there.

"Ah," said Grandmother Sarabi, "Harry, this is my granddaughter, Kiara. Kiara, this is Mr Potter himself."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kiara. I've heard a lot about you," said Harry, extending his hand.

"Thanks. I've heard a lot about you too, Mr Potter," I said, taking it.

"Please, call me Harry."

"OK ..." I said nervously, as we let go of each other's hands. I read genuine honesty and trust in his eyes, so I went on that.

There was silence for a minute. I stared at my shoes, not knowing what to say, for what do you say to someone so great who you've heard about for four years? I mean, where do you begin? Mr Dawson ended it by saying, "Would you like a cup of tea, Sarabi?"

"Oh, yes, I'd love one." So Mr Dawson led her out of the cubicle, leaving Harry and I alone.

An uncomfortable silence once again ensued between us. I didn't know what to say, so I just said somewhat awkwardly, "So ... I saw the statue of you and your friends in the Atrium just now ..."

Harry heaved a heavy sigh. "Yeah ... that's just it. You save the world, and you get hero-worshipped. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not ungrateful for it - " he said at my puzzled look, " - just like I'm not ungrateful for defeating Voldemort. What I'm trying to say is that some people look at me like I'm a ... God or something, when I'm just an ordinary, normal person who came from unfortunate circumstances, that's all."

"Hey, I get that," I said, understanding every word. "After all, we both have quite similar background stories. Mr Dawson said that one day I'll take your place on the fountain, which I am so not looking forward to." I sighed before I continued, "But we must do what we can for the people. I'm just grateful that I have the support of my friends and my family, especially my parents - " I gasped, shocked at myself for saying such a thing like that. _Smooth, Pride-Lander. Real smooth_ , a voice in my head chastised me, as I gazed down at my shoes again, my eyes as wide as saucers and my face bright red, ashamed of what I just said.

But then, Harry said something that I did not expect to hear.

"It's OK, Kiara."

I looked up at him, surprised. Instead of hatred or shock, he was looking at me with kind eyes and a gentle smile.

"It is?"

"'Course it is. Look, Kiara, it's true that I lost my parents at a very young age, but I've got good friends around me ... and a family of my own, which I am very grateful for. You're lucky your parents are alive, Kiara, and take it from me: the ones we love and cherish the most, keep them close for as long as possible, for you never know at what point you're going to lose them from your life for ever."

That had to be one of the most wisest things I have ever heard in my entire life so far, and it's something that I will remember for the rest of my life.

"I take it that Ron, Hermione and your wife are some of the people you cherish?" I then asked him.

"Yes, they are. I love my Ginny dearly, along with the three children we've got - our third being born not two months ago now ..."

"Wow, congratulations," I said.

"Thanks. I love Ron like a brother and Hermione like a sister. I'm happy for them. I knew for many years before they got together that they belonged together - in the furthest recesses of my mind, at least. You know, whenever we see that statue, I always ignore it, not wanting to look at my glory; Ron gloats about it whenever he can and Hermione just walks right past it, although you can just see a small smile and a proud glint in her eye if you look close enough."

"And Ginny?"

"Well, whenever someone comes up and starts talking to me about my great achievements and the statue, Ginny always comes and defends me, which I'm grateful for. I also know how proud she is of me - she doesn't say it, but I can tell, and for me, that's enough. Anyway, going back to Hermione, your friend Sian reminds me a lot of her. They agree on many things, apart from house-elf rights ..."

"How so?" I asked.

"Oh, well, Hermione believes that all house-elves should be free, whereas Sian thinks that those who aren't happy in their position should be given the help they need and deserve. It's quite enjoyable, really, especially around the dinner table." We both chuckled at this, before Harry turned his attention to my hearing.

"So, how are you feeling about it? The hearing, I mean?"

I remember the dread coming back to me then, which I had temporarily forgotten, given the conversation we had had. I remember feeling queasy, and I said slowly, "Not ... great ..."

Harry gave a wry chuckle and said, "I know how you feel. When I was exactly your age, I got given a disciplinary hearing for using magic to save my cousin."

"Really?" I asked, surprised, for no one had told me that before. "What happened?"

Harry gave a sly smile and said, "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. But," he said, lowering his voice as his gaze became more serious, "you should know that, if I think your next year at school is going to be like mine, that you're in for a really tough year."

I didn't like where this was going, and something of my discomfort must have shown on my face, for Harry said, "Look, all you've got to do is trust in your friends, remain strong at all times and have faith in your beliefs and convictions. You stick to these three things and you'll be fine. Oh, and by any chance if you have a vision of a family member of yours in trouble, be very wary of it ... for it might not be what it appears to be ..."

Before I could ask Harry what he meant, I hear hurried footsteps coming towards us. Turning round, I saw Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson running towards us, both wearing troubled expressions.

"Kiara ... we've got to go ... now!" panted Grandmother Sarabi, once she and Mr Dawson reached us.

"Why?"

"Because we've just bumped into Kara," said Mr Dawson, wiping the sweat from his brow. "She just told us that your hearing is down in old Courtroom Ten, and it started five minutes ago. Come on!"

I got up quickly and ran after Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson, but I did not forget about Harry, for as I ran I turned back and yelled, "Nice meeting you!", and he yelled back, "Good luck, Kiara!"

"Why have they changed the time?" I said breathlessly, as we hurried past the other Auror cubicles; people poked out their heads and stared as we streaked past. I felt as though I'd left all my insides back at Mr Dawson's desk with Harry.

"I've no idea, but thank goodness we got here so early," said Mr Dawson. "If you'd missed it, it would have been catastrophic!"

Mr Dawson skidded to a halt beside the lifts and jabbed impatiently on the "down" button.

"Come ON!"

The lift clattered into view and Grandmother Sarabi, Mr Dawson and I hurried inside. Every time it stopped, Mr Dawson cursed furiously and pummelled the number nine button.

"Those courtrooms haven't been used in years," said Mr Dawson angrily. "I can't thin why they're doing it down there - unless it's for - oh no - "

A plump wizard carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr Dawson did not elaborate.

"The Atrium," said the cool female voice and the golden grilles slid open, showing me a distant glimpse of the golden statues in the fountain. The plump wizard got out and a sallow-skinned witch with a very mournful face got in.

"Morning, Matt," she said in a sepulchral voice as the lift began to descend. "Don't often see you down here!"

"Urgent business, Bold," said Mr Dawson, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet and throwing anxious looks over at me.

"Ah, yes," said Bold, surveying me unblinkingly. "Of course."

I barely had emotion to spare for Bold, but her unfaltering gaze did not make me feel any more uncomfortable. Feeling Grandmother Sarabi's hand on my shoulder, I looked straight ahead, and tried to ignore Bold's stares.

"Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice, and left it at that.

"Quickly, Kiara, we must hurry," said Grandmother Sarabi as the lift rattled open, and she, Mr Dawson and I sped up a corridor that was quite different from those above. The walls were bare; there were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. I expected that we'd go through it, but instead Mr Dawson seized me by the arm and dragged me to the left, where there was an opening leading to flight of steps, with Grandmother Sarabi right behind us.

"Down here, down here," panted Mr Dawson, taking two steps at a time. "The lift doesn't even come down this far ... _why_ there doing it down there I ..."

We reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to the one that led to Triphorm's dungeon at Dragon Mort, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors we passed were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Courtroom ... Ten ... I think ... yes."

Mr Dawson stumbled to a halt outside a grimy door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.

"Go on ... you two ..." he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."

"Aren't - aren't you coming in with - ?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck, Kiara!"

Mr Dawson planted a kiss on my head. My heart was beating a violent tattoo in my throat. I swallowed hard and turned to Grandmother Sarabi, who nodded at me. I nodded back, faced the door and, taking a deep breath for courage, I turned the heavy iron door handle and stepped inside the courtroom, with Grandmother Sarabi right beside me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **The Hearing**

 **KIARA**

 **AN: This chapter is dedicated to those of you who are shocked at what has happened over in the USA today. My heart goes out to every single American who has to live with that clown as their president. But if it makes you feel any better, wizards face injustice too, but let us hope that better days are coming.**

I gasped; I couldn't help myself. The large dungeon I entered was horribly familiar. I had not only seen it before, I had _been_ there before. It was the place I'd visited inside Crighton's Pensieve, the place where I had watched Bea Clutch Junior sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.

The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of myself and Grandmother Sarabi, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind us, an ominous silence fell.

A cold female voice rang across the courtroom.

"You're late."

"Sorry," I said nervously. "I-I didn't know the time had been changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."

I dropped my gaze to the chair in the centre of the room, the arms of which were covered in chains. I had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. I tried to take another breath for courage, but my courage seemed to have been left with Mr Dawson on the other side of the door, so I walked towards the chair with Grandmother Sarabi at my side. Our footsteps echoed loudly as we walked across the stone floor. When I sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, the chains clinked threateningly but did not bind me (out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grandmother Sarabi draw out her wand, and conjure a comfy chintz armchair next to me, which she then sat upon). Feeling rather sick, I looked up at the people seated at the bench above.

From what I can remember, there were about fifty of them, all, as far as I could see, wore plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver "W" on the left-hand side of the chest and all of them were staring down at me, some with very austere expressions, others with looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelia Sweets, the (previous) Minister for Magic. Sweets was a portly woman who now sported a burgundy witch's hat, though on that day she had dispensed with it; she had dispensed, too, with the indulgent smile she had once worn when she had spoken to me on previous occasions. A broad, square-jawed wizard with very short grey hair sat on Sweets' left; he wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On Sweets' right was another wizard, but he sat so far back on the bench that his face was in shadow.

"Very well," said Sweets. "The accused being present - finally - let us begin. Are you ready?" she called down the row?

"Yes, ma'am," said an eager voice I knew. Tanya and Geri's sister Perdy was sitting at the very end of the bench. I looked at Perdy, expecting to see some kind of recognition from her, but none came. Perdy's eyes, behind her horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on her parchment, a quill poised in her hand.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Sweets in a ringing voice, and Perdy began taking notes at once, "into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statue of Secrecy by Kiara Nala Pride-Lander, resident at - -, -, Wales.

"Interrogators: Cornelia Oswin Sweets, Minister for Magic; Arnold Sean Bongo, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Democritus Jonas Umber, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister . Court Scribe, Perdy Irma Fang - "

"Witness for the defence, Susan Louise Jane Winifred Crighton," said a quiet voice from behind Grandmother Sarabi. I turned my head so fast that I cricked my neck.

Crighton was striding serenely across the room wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. Her long caramel hair that had silver streaks gleamed in the torchlight like the sun shining on honey as she drew level with Grandmother Sarabi and myself and looked up at Sweets, with those piercing green eyes of hers.

The members of the Wizengamot were muttering. All eyes were on Crighton then. Some looked annoyed, others slightly frightened; two elderly wizards in the back row, however, raised their hands in welcome.

I remember a powerful emotion rising in my chest when I saw Crighton at that moment; a fortified, hopeful feeling rather like that which the phoenix song gave me. I wanted to catch Crighton's eye, but Crighton didn't look my way; instead she returned Grandmother Sarabi's grateful smile with one of her own, before she turned to look up at the obviously flustered Sweets.

"Ah," said Sweets, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Yes. You - er - got our - er - message that the time and - er - place of the hearing had been changed, then?"

"I must have missed it," said Crighton cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake, I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done."

"Yes - well - I suppose we'll need another chair - I - Fang, could you - ?"

"Not to worry, not to worry," said Crighton pleasantly; she took out her wand, gave it a little flick and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to me. Crighton sat down, interwove her fingers, put them down on her lap and looked up at Sweets with an expression of polite interest. The Wizengamot were still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Sweets spoke again did they settle down.

"Yes," said Sweets again, shuffling her notes. "Well, then. So. The charges. Yes."

She extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before her, took a deep breath, and read out, "The charges against the accused are as follows:

"That she did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a mainly Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Secrecy, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statue of Secrecy.

"You are Kiara Nala Pride-Lander of - -, -, Wales?" Sweets said, glaring at me over the top of her parchment.

"Yes," I said.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry of Magic for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but - "

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Sweets.

"Yes," I said, "but - "

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but - "

"Knowing that you were in an area partially full of Muggles that are unaware of the wizarding community?"

"Yes, but - "

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?"

 _"Yes,"_ I said angrily, as Grandmother Sarabi grasped my hand, "but I only used it because we were - "

The wizard with the monocle cut across me in a booming voice.

"You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"

"Yes," I said, "because - "

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"A - what?" I said, unfamiliar with the phrase.

"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapour or smoke?"

"Yes," I said, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate by that point, "it's a lioness, it's always a lioness."

"Always?" boomed Sir Bongo. "You have produced a Patronus before now?"

 _"Yes,"_ I said, "I've been doing it for over a year."

"And you are fifteen years old?"

"Yes, and - "

"You learned this at school?"

"Yes, Professor Meers taught me in my third year, because of the - "

"Impressive," said Sir Bongo, staring down at me, "a true Patronus at her age ... very impressive indeed ... why, we haven't heard of a fifteen-year-old producing a corporeal Patronus since Harry Potter."

Some of the witches and wizards around him were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.

"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was," said Sweets in a testy voice, "in fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the girl did it in plain view of a Muggle!"

Those who were frowning before then muttered in agreement, but it was the sight of Perdy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded me into speech.

"I only did it because of the Stingers!" I said loudly, before anyone could interrupt me again.

I had expected more muttering to come from those words, but the silence that followed seemed to be more denser than before.

"Stingers?" said Sir Bongo after a moment, his thick eyebrows rising until his monocle looked in danger of falling off. "What do you mean, girl?"

"What my granddaughter means is that there were two Stingers down that alleyway, and they went for Kiara and her cousin, it could not be plainer than that!" said Grandmother Sarabi contemptuously.

"You, madam, shall not speak without the Minister allowing it!" said Sweets, her eyes gaining a sort of fire in them. "You are her supporting relative, after all, nothing more!" Sweets then paused, took a deep breath, and started smirking unpleasantly as she looked around at the Wizengamot, and said, "Ah, yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."

"Stingers? In that part of the country?" Sir Bongo said, in a tone of great surprise. "I don't understand - "

"Don't you, Arnold?" said Sweets, still smirking. "Let me explain. She and her precious grandmother here have been thinking it through and decided Stingers would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see Stingers, can they, girl? Highly convenient, highly convenient ... so it's just your word and no witnesses ..."

"I'm not lying!" I said loudly, over another outbreak of muttering from the court. "And neither is my grandmother! There were indeed two Stingers, coming from opposite ends of the alley; everything went dark and cold and my cousin felt them and ran for it - "

"Enough, enough!" said Sweets, with a very supercilious look on her face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story - "

Crighton cleared her throat. The Wizengamot fell silent again.

"We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of Stingers in the alleyway," she said, "other than Carol Smith, I mean."

Sweets' plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let the air out of it. She stared down at Crighton for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a woman pulling herself back together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more tarradiddles, I'm afraid, Crighton. I want this dealt with quickly - "

"I may be wrong," said Crighton pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Sir Bongo?" she continued, addressing the wizard in the monocle.

"True," said Sir Bongo. "Perfectly true."

"Oh, very well, very well," snapped Sweets. "Where is this person?"

"I brought him with me," said Crighton. "He's just outside the door. Should I - ?"

"No - Fang, you go," Sweets barked at Perdy, who got up at once, ran down the stone steps from the judge's balcony and hurried past Grandmother Sarabi, Crighton and I without glancing at us.

A moment later, Perdy returned, followed by Mr Figgs. He looked scared and more batty than ever. Oh, how I wished that he had thought to change out of his carpet slippers.

Crighton stodd up and gave Mr Figgs her chair, conjuring a second one for herself.

"Full name?" said Sweets loudly, when Mr Figgs had perched himself nervously on the very edge of his seat.

"Aubrey Donald Figgs," said Mr Figgs in his quavery voice.

"And who exactly are you?" said Sweets, in a bored and lofty voice.

"I'm a resident of - -, close to where Kiara Pride-Lander lives," said Mr Figgs.

"We have records of witches and wizards living in - -, including Kiara Pride-Lander and her grandmother, but not yours," said Sir Bongo at once. "That situation has always been closely monitored, given ... given past events."

"I'm a Squib," said Mr Figgs. "So you wouldn't have me registered, would you?"

"A Squib, eh?" said Sweets, eyeing him closely. "We'll be checking that. You'll leave details of your parentage with my assistant Fang. Incidentally, can Squibs see Stingers?" she added, looking left and right along the bench.

"Yes, we can!" said Mr Figgs indignantly. "We can also see Dementors, too!"

Sweets looked back down at him, her eyebrows raised. "Very well," she said aloud. "What is your story?"

"I had gone to buy cat food from the corner shop at the end of - -, around about nine o'clock, on the evening of the second of August," gabbled Mr Figgs at once, as though he had learned what he was saying by heart, "when I heard a disturbance down the alleyway between - - and - -. On approaching the mouth of the alleyway, I saw Stingers running - "

"Running?" said Sir Bongo sharply. "Stingers don't run, they fly."

"that's what I meant to say," said Mr Figgs quickly, patches of pink appearing in his withered cheeks. "Flying down the alley towards what looked like two girls."

"What did they look like?" said Sir Bongo, narrowing his eyes so that the edge of the monocle disappeared into his flesh.

"Well, they were both of fine figure, but one looked slightly more healthier than the other - "

"No, no," said Sir Bongo impatiently. "The Stingers ... describe them."

"Oh," said Mr Figgs, the pink flush becoming more prominent now. "They were big. Big and wearing cloaks. Oh, and they only had one big red eye in the middle of their heads, with a big black slit for a pupil running down the middle, with spikes and wings on their backs."

I felt a horrible sinking in the pit of my stomach at those words. Whatever Mr Figgs might say, it sounded to me as though the most he'd ever seen was a picture of a Stinger, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground; or the rotting smell of them; or that terrible rattling noise, combined with the buzzing of their wings, as they sucked on the surrounding air ...

In the second row, a dumpy witch with long black hair leaned close to whisper in the ear of her neighbour, a frizzy-haired wizard. He smiled and nodded.

"Big, wearing cloaks, red eyes with black slits for pupils running down the middle, and spikes and wings in their backs," repeated Sir Bongo coolly, while Sweets snorted derisively. "I see. Anything else?"

"Yes," said Mr Figgs. "I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a warm summer's night, mark you. And I felt ... as though all the happiness had gone from the world ... and I remembered ... dreadful things ..."

His voice shook and died.

Sir Bongo's eyes widened slightly. I saw red marks under his eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.

"What did the Stingers do?" he asked, and I felt a rush of hope.

"They went for the girls," said Mr Figgs, his voice stronger and more confident, the pink flush ebbing away from his face. "One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the Stinger. That was Kiara. She tried twice and produced silver vapour. On the third attempt, she produced a Patronus, which charged down the first Stinger and then, with her encouragement, chased the second one away from her cousin. And that ... that is what happened," Mr Figgs finished, somewhat lamely.

Sir Bongo looked down at Mr Figgs in silence, as Grandmother Sarabi clutched my hand harder, looking (as I noticed later) very pale. Sweets was not looking at him at all, but was fidgeting with her papers instead. Finally, she raised her eyes and said, rather aggressively, "That's what you saw, is it?"

"That is what happened," Mr Figgs repeated.

"Very well," said Sweets. "You may go."

Mr Figgs cast a frightened look from Sweets to Crighton, then got up and shuffled off towards the door. I heard it thud shut behind him.

"Not a very convincing witness," said Sweets loftily.

"Oh, I don't know," said Sir Bongo, in his booming voice. "He certainly described the effects of a Stinger attack very accurately. And I can't imagine why he would say they were if they weren't."

"But Stingers ... wandering into a suburb where only some Muggles live ... and just _happening_ to come across a witch?" snorted Sweets. "The odds on that must be very, very long. Even Baxter wouldn't have bet - "

"Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Stingers were there by coincidence," said Crighton lightly.

The wizard sitting to the right of Sweets, with his face in shadow, moved slightly but everyone else was quite still and silent.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sweets asked icily.

"It means that I think they were ordered there," said Crighton.

"I think we might have a record of it if someone ordered a pair of Stingers to go strolling through - -!" barked Sweets.

"Not if the Stingers are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days," said Crighton calmly. "I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelia."

"Yes, you have," said Sweets forcefully, "and I have no reason to believe your views are anything other than bilge, Crighton. The Stingers remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we ask them to."

"Then," said Crighton, quietly but clearly, "we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Stingers into that alleyway on the second of August."

In the complete silence that greeted these words, the wizard to the right of Sweets leaned forwards so that I saw him for the first time.

I inwardly gasped (which wasn't easy) by the sight of him, for in my eyes he looked just like a large, pale toad. He was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, with very little neck and a very wide, slack mouth. His eyes were large, round and slightly bulging. Despite his curly hair, I could easily imagine a fly perched on top that he could try and catch on a long, sticky tongue.

"The Chair recognises Democritus Jonas Umber, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," said Sweets.

The wizard spoke in a boyish, high-pitched voice that took me by surprise, for I had been expecting a croak.

"I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Crighton," he said, with a simper that left his big, round eyes as cold as ever. "So silly of me, but it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this girl!"

He gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A few older members of the Wizengamot laughed with him. It could not have been plainer that not one of them was really amused (and just so you know, it was in that moment that I somehow knew that not only was this guy bad news, but that he was also big trouble; but in a matter of months, I would come to understand just how much trouble this guy would turn out to be. But don't worry about that for now, dear readers. We'll get to that).

"If it is true that the Stingers are taking orders from the Ministry of Magic, and it is also true that the two Stingers attacked Kiara and her cousin a week ago, then it follows logically that somebody at the Ministry might have ordered the attacks," said Crighton politely. "Of course, these particular Stingers may have been outside Ministry control - "

"There are no Stingers outside Ministry control!" snapped Sweets, who had turned brick red.

Crighton inclined her head in a little bow.

"Then undoubtedly the Ministry will be making a full inquiry into why two Stingers were so very far from Azkaban and why they attacked without authorisation."

"It is not for you to decide what the Ministry of Magic does or does not do, Crighton!" snapped Sweets, who was now a brilliant shade of magenta.

"Of course it isn't," said Crighton mildly. "I was merely expressing my confidence that this matter will not go uninvestigated."

She glanced at Sir Bongo, who readjusted his monocle and stared back at her, frowning slightly.

"I would remind everybody that the behaviour of these Stingers, if indeed they are not figments of this girl's imagination, is not the subject of this hearing!" said Sweets. "We are here to examine Kiara Pride-Lander's offences under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery!"

"Of course we are," said Crighton, "but the presence of Stingers in that alleyway is highly relevant. Clause Seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and as those exceptional circumstances include situations which threaten the life of the wizard or witch him- or herself, or any witches, wizards or Muggles present at the time of the - "

"We are familiar with Clause Seven, thank you very much!" snarled Sweets.

"Of course you are," said Crighton courteously. "Then we are in agreement that Kiara's use of the Patronus Charm in these circumstances falls precisely into the category of exceptional circumstances the clause describes?"

"If there were Stingers which I doubt."

"My granddaughter has already told you - "

"Silence!" barked Sweets, which put Grandmother Sarabi in a foul mood.

"You have heard it from an eyewitness," said Crighton. "If you still doubt his truthfulness, call him back, question him again. I am sure he would not object."

"I - that - not - " blustered Sweets, fiddling with the papers before her. "It's - I want this over with today, Crighton!"

"But naturally, you would not care how many times you heard from a witness, if the alternative was a serious miscarriage of justice," said Crighton.

"Serious miscarriage, my hat!" said Sweets at the top of her voice. "Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this girl has come out with, Crighton, while trying to cover up her flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten the Hover Charm she used three years ago - "

"That was not my granddaughter, Minister! That was a house-elf!" said Grandmother Sarabi.

"YOU SEE?" roared Sweets, gesturing flamboyantly in my direction. "A house-elf! In a partially-Muggle house! And now she has her grandmother covering up for her! And you, madam - " she turned to Grandmother Sarabi, " - if you speak out of line one more time, I will be forced to remove you from the courtroom! Anyway, getting back to the point, I ask you - "

"But Sarabi is Kiara's other grandmother who lives there too, might I remind you, Cornelia," said Crighton. "And about the house-elf in question, why she is currently in the employ of Dragon Mort School. I can summon her here in an instant to give evidence if you wish."

"I - not - I haven't got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that's not the only - she blew up her uncle, for God's sake!" Sweets shouted, banging her fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.

"And you kindly did not press charges on that occasion, accepting, I presume, that even the best wizards cannot always control their emotions," said Crighton calmly, as Sweets attempted to scrub the ink off her notes.

"And I haven't even started on what she gets up to at school."

"But, as the Ministry has no authority to punish Dragon Mort students for misdemeanours at school, Kiara's behaviour there is not relevant to this hearing," said Crighton, as politely as ever, but now with a suggestion of coolness behind her words.

"Oho!" said Sweets. "Not our business what she does at school, eh? You think so?"

"The Ministry does not have the power to expel Dragon Mort students, Cornelia, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August," said Crighton. "Nor does it have the right to confiscate wands until charges have been successfully proven; again, as I reminded you on the night of the second of August. In your admirable haste to ensure that the law is upheld, you appear, inadvertently I am sure, to have overlooked a few laws yourself."

"Laws can be changed if necessary, Crighton," said Sweets savagely.

"Of course they can," said Crighton, inclining her head. "And you certainly seem to be making many changes, Cornelia. Why, in the few short weeks since I was asked to leave the Wizengamot, it has already become the practice to hold a full criminal trial to deal with a simple matter of underage magic."

A few of the wizards above us shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Sweets turned a slightly deeper shade of puce. The toadlike wizard on her right, however, merely gazed at Crighton, his face quite expressionless.

"As far as I am certain," Crighton continued, "there is no law yet in place that says this court's job is to punish Kiara for every bit of magic she has ever performed. She has been charged with a specific offence and she has presented her defence. All she, Sarabi and I can do now is to await your verdict. For after all, Kiara's fate resides in your hands."

And with that, Crighton crossed her fingertips together again and said no more. Sweets glared at her, evidently incensed. I glanced sideways at Crighton, seeking reassurance; I was not at all sure that Crighton was right in telling the Wizengamot, in effect, that it was about time they made a decision. Again, however, Crighton seemed oblivious to my attempts to catch her eye. She continued to look up at the benches where the Wizengamot had fallen into urgent, whispered conversations. But I remembered the hand grasping mine, and I instead turned my attentions to Grandmother Sarabi for reassurance. I saw that she was pale, but was glad to see she had a little bit of colour in her cheeks. When she caught my eye, she gave me a small, reassuring smile, and I gave her a grateful one in return.

I then stared at out interwoven hands. My heart, which seemed to have swollen to an unnatural size, was thumping loudly under my ribs. I had expected the hearing to last longer than this. I was not at all sure that I had made a good impression. I had not really said very much. I ought to have explained more fully about the Stingers, about how I had fallen over, about how both myself and Carol had nearly been sucked ...

Twice I looked up at Sweets and opened my mouth to speak, but my swollen heart was constricting the air passages and both times I merely took a deep breath and looked back down at mine and Grandmother Sarabi's hands.

And then the whispering stopped. I wanted to look up at the judges, but I found that it was much, much easier to keep examining mine and Grandmother Sarabi's interwoven hands.

"Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges?" said Sir Bongo's booming voice.

My head jerked upwards at that. There were hands in the air, many of them ... more than half, in fact! Breathing very fast, I tried to count, but before I could finish, Sir Bongo had said, "And those in favour of conviction?"

Sweets raised her hand; so did half a dozen others, including the wizard on her right and the long black-haired witch and the frizzy-haired wizard in the second row.

Sweets glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in her throat, then lowered her own hand. She took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well ... cleared of all charges."

"Excellent," said Crighton briskly, springing to her feet, pulling out her wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. "Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all!"

And after nodding at Grandmother Sarabi, she swept from the dungeon without glancing at me, which surprised both Grandmother Sarabi and myself.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **After the Hearing**

 **KIARA**

Crighton's abrupt departure took both myself and Grandmother Sarabi by surprise. We remained sitting where we were (myself in the chained chair, and Grandmother Sarabi in her own chintz armchair that she had created), and we were both struggling with our feelings; myself with shock and relief, and Grandmother Sarabi was fighting the urge to hug me and cry in front of the Wizengamot, who were all getting to their feet, talking, gathering up their papers and packing them away.

"Well, thank you for all your time," said Grandmother Sarabi to nobody in particular, but none of the Wizengamot were paying any attention to either of us, except from the toadlike wizard on Sweets' right, who was gazing down at us instead of Crighton. I didn't know what to do, so I turned to Grandmother Sarabi, who was ignoring the toadlike wizard, and was trying to catch Sweets' eye, or Sir Bongo's, wanting to ask whether we were free to go, but from what I could see, Sweets seemed quite determined to take no notice of us, and Sir Bongo was busy with his briefcase, so Grandmother Sarabi turned to me and said, "Come on, Kiara." She pulled out her wand and made her armchair vanish just like Crighton's, before we both walked fast towards the exit.

Once we reached the door, Grandmother Sarabi wrenched it open, and I darted out, almost bumping into Mr Dawson, who looked like he had been furiously pacing, and he looked pale and apprehensive, but I didn't notice him at first, and neither did Grandmother Sarabi, for once she closed the door, we looked at each other for a few moments, before we hugged each other tight, crying tears of joy and relief, which, of course, only worried Mr Dawson more.

"Kiara! Sarabi! Are you all right? What happened? Susan didn't say - "

"Oh, Mr Dawson," I said, clearing the tears from my eyes, after Grandmother Sarabi and I had let go of each other. "I-I'm cleared of all charges!"

Mr Dawson sighed with relief, and swept me into a tight hug.

"Kiara, that's fantastic!" he said, pulling away from me slightly. "Well, of course, they couldn't have found you guilty, not on the evidence, but even so, I can't pretend I wasn't - "

But Mr Dawson broke off, because the courtroom door had just opened again. The Wizengamot were filing out.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Mr Dawson wonderingly, pulling Grandmother Sarabi and I aside to let them all pass. "You were tried by the full court, Kiara?"

"I think so," Grandmother Sarabi said quietly.

One or two of the wizards nodded to Grandmother Sarabi and myself as they passed, and a few, including Sir Bongo, said, "'Morning, Matt," to Mr Dawson, but most averted their eyes. Cornelia Sweets and the toadlike wizard were almost the last to leave the dungeon. Sweets acted as though Grandmother Sarabi, Mr Dawson and I were part of the wall, but, again, the wizard looked almost appraisingly at me as he passed. Last of all to pass was Perdy. Like Sweets, she completely ignored Grandmother Sarabi, her uncle and I; she marched past clutching a large roll of parchment and a handful of spare quills, her back rigid and her nose in the air. The lines around Mr Dawson's mouth tightened slightly, but other than that he gave no sign that he had seen his niece.

"I'm going to take you both straight back so you can tell the others the good news," he said, beckoning Grandmother Sarabi and I forwards as Perdy's heels disappeared up the steps to Level Nine. "I'll drop you off on the way to grab some lunch - and by lunch, I mean the delicious flapjacks that Sian made for me this morning that I forgot to pick up on the way out. Come on ..."

As we walked towards the stairs, the three of us were silent, apart from the occasional sniff from Grandmother Sarabi. I found myself grinning from ear-to-ear, as it started to sink in; _I was cleared, I was going back to Dragon Mort_.

As we reached the ninth-level corridor, we saw Cornelia Sweets standing a few feet away from us, talking quietly to a tall woman with sleek blonde hair and a pointed, pale face.

The second woman turned at the sound of our footsteps. She broke off mid-conversation with Sweets, her cold grey eyes narrowed and fixed upon my face.

"Well, well, well ... Patronus Pride-Lander," said Narissa Malty coldly.

I felt winded, as though I had just walked into something solid. Before then, I had seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Love Destroyer's hood, and heard that woman's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lady Zira tortured me. I couldn't believe that not only did Narissa Malty dared to look me in the face, but that she was also at the Ministry of Magic. I also couldn't believe that Cornelia Sweets was talking to her, when I had told Sweets towards the end of my fourth year that Malty was a Love Destroyer.

"The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Pride-Lander," drawled Mrs Malty. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of tight holes ... _snakelike_ , in fact."

Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi grabbed my shoulders in warning.

"Yeah," I said, "yeah, I'm good at escaping."

Narissa Malty raised her eyes to Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi's faces.

"And Matthew Dawson and Sarabi Pride-Lander, too! What are you two doing here, I wonder?"

"I work here," said Mr Dawson curtly.

"And I'm here to support my granddaughter," said Grandmother Sarabi bluntly.

"You _work_ here, Matthew? Not _here_ , surely?" said Mrs Malty, raising her eyebrows and glancing towards the door over Mr Dawson's shoulder. "I thought you were up on the second floor ... don't you do something that helps _protect_ the world from Dark wizards, whilst trying to find whatever Muggle artefacts you can find and bewitching them?"

"Yes, I work as an Auror, Narissa, but the other part is absurd," Mr Dawson snapped, his fingers biting into y left shoulder.

"And you, Sarabi," said Narissa Malty, turning to my grandmother, "I'd have thought that you'd be looking after your Muggle friend; after all, Muggles aren't as ... _gifted_ as we are."

"Sarafina can do just as well on her own, thank you very much," snapped Grandmother Sarabi, her sharp nails biting into my right shoulder.

"Whatever you say, whatever you say," sang Narissa Malty. "By the way, you and Sarabi look like a charming couple. You're not having second thoughts about your marriage, are you, Matthew?"

Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson were restraining themselves from answering that in Sweets' presence.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I then asked Narissa Malty.

"I don't think private matters between myself and the Minister are any concern of yours, Pride-Lander," said Malty, soothing the front of her robes. I distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold. "Really, just because you are one of Crighton's favourite girls, you must not expect the same indulgence from the rest of us ... shall we go up to your office, then, Minister?"

"Certainly," said Sweets, turning her back on myself, Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson. "This way, Narissa."

They strode off together, talking in low voices. Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi did not let go of my shoulders until they had disappeared into the lift.

"Why wasn't she waiting outside Sweets' office if they've got business to do together?" I burst out furiously. "What was she doing here?"

"Trying to sneak down to the courtroom, if you ask me," said Mr Dawson, looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure we could not be overheard. "Trying to find out whether you'd been expelled or not. I'll leave a note for my wife when I drop you off, she ought to know Malty's been talking to Sweets again."

"What private business have they got together, anyway, Matt?" Grandmother Sarabi asked him.

"Gold, I expect," answered Mr Dawson angrily. "Malty's not as wealthy as my family, but she's wealthy enough to give generously enough to all sorts for years ... only difference is she gloats about it afterwards. Anyways, she gets in with the right people ... then she can ask favours ... delay laws she doesn't want passed ... oh, she's quite well-connected, Narissa Malty."

The lift arrived; it was empty except for a flock of memos that flapped around Mr Dawson's head as he pressed the button for the Atrium and the doors clanged shut. He waved them away irritably.

"Mr Dawson," I said slowly, "if Sweets is meeting Love Destroyers like Malty, if she's seeing them alone, how do we know they haven't put the Imperius Curse on her?"

"Don't think it hasn't occurred to us, Kiara," said Mr Dawson quietly. "But my wife thinks Sweets is acting of her own accord at the moment - which, as Susan says, is not a lot of comfort. Best not to talk about it any more just now, Kiara."

The doors slid open and we stepped out into the now almost-deserted Atrium. Erin the watch-witch was hidden behind her _Daily Squabbler_ again. We had walked straight past the golden fountain before I remembered.

"Wait ..." I told Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi, before I pulled my moneybag from my pocket, and turned back to the fountain.

As I looked up at the Golden Trio's faces, I remembered what Harry said to me about hero-worshipping, and him being a God-like figure - and looking up at the statue again, I realised he was right. There were no bruises, scars, blood marks or any other type of war wound on them, and they were all smiling and happy. I could see why people thought of them this way, but I thought - and still think - that it was wrong to praise them this way. So, thinking of where all the money went to, I didn't just put ten Galleons in, oh no, I poured the entire contents of my moneybag into the pool.

0000

When myself, Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi arrived at Pumbaa's house, we headed towards the kitchen, thinking that this was where everyone would be. As we got closer, we heard muffled voices coming from inside it. Smiling at each other, the three of us stepped close enough to hear what was going on, but did not enter. We were right outside the door when we heard the sound of someone pacing, and someone speaking in a strange, naizily voice, saying " ... worry ... worry ... worry ... worry ..." over and over again, before the recognisable voice of Sian said, "Oh, would you stop worrying, Chrissie, we're all worried!" Chrissie then said, still in that strange, naizily voice, "But they've been gone a really long time." There was a pause, then Sian said, "Oh, worry a little longer!" and the pacing started again. I turned to Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi, and I said to them quietly in a teasing voice, "Let's have some fun with this, shall we?"

"What do you have in mind, sweetie?" asked Grandmother Sarabi.

"Just follow my lead," I said, grinning. Then, gaining a sombre expression (but really laughing inside), I opened the door to reveal the rest of the Dawsons, Kopa, Tanya, Geri, Pumbaa and my parents. All of them - except Sian - had been sitting down, but stood up when they saw us. They all looked worried and nervous.

"Well?" asked Sian, in a worried tone.

"How'd it go?" asked Chrissie.

"Well ..." I said slowly, as I looked around at their nervous and worried faces, "I'm sorry to say ..."

I watched as their expressions lost hope, even Tanya and Geri. I know it was cruel of me to drag the words out, dear readers, but as I stood there, looking at each person in that room individually, seeing the love and concern in their eyes that they had for me, I knew that even if I had been deemed guilty that they would all stand by me, and would be there for me no matter what. I had never really thought about it before that point in my life, but at that moment I realised just how lucky I was to have that many people in my life who cared about me.

"Oh, just tell us already, Kiara, you're killing us here!" Chris shouted, startling me out of my thoughts, looking at me with concern and something else that I didn't know what it was at that point. I saw my father and Kopa's eyes narrowed in suspicion at him, whereas Sian and Chrissie gave each other knowing looks and were stifling their laughter.

Anyhoo, at Chris' outburst, I decided that they had been kept in the dark for long enough, so I told them:

"I'm going back to Dragon Mort!"

The result of my words was instantaneous: everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief, and then the hugs, kisses and words of congratulations were said. Grandmother Sarabi was crying again, and I was having a hard time trying to hold my own tears back.

"I knew it!" yelled Chrissie, punching the air. "You always get away with this stuff!"

"They were bound to clear you," said Sian, who was panting heavily, like she had just run a mile, and she was shaking, "there was no case against you, none at all."

"I'm glad you can come back to Dragon Mort with us, Kiara!" said Chris, with a warm smile.

"Thanks, Chris," I said. "So, everyone seems quite relieved, considering you all knew I'd get off."

Grandmother Sarabi was wiping her eyes on a handkerchief, and Merida, Dave, Tanya and Geri were doing a kind of war dance to a chant that went: _"She got off, she got off, she got off ..."_

"That's enough! Settle down!" shouted Mr Dawson, though he too was smiling. "Listen, Simba, Nala, Narissa Malty was at the Ministry - "

"What?" my parents said sharply together.

 _"She got off, she got off, she got off ..."_

"Be quiet, you four! Yes, we saw her talking to Sweets on Level Nine, then they went up to Sweets' office together. My wife ought to know."

"Of course!" Mum said. "We'll make sure she knows, Matt, don't worry."

"Well, I'd better get back to work," said Mr Dawson, taking three boxes full of little golden brown squares of flapjacks with chocolate chips in from Sian that she had made for him. "I've got a job to keep and I've got a few people to tell in secret that Kiara's been proven innocent. I'll be late, though, I'm covering for Todd, but Kara might be dropping in for dinner," he said, kissing Sian's cheek once he'd finished talking.

 _"She got off, she got off, she got off ..."_

"That's enough - Dave - Tanya - Dave - Merida!" said Grandmother Sarabi, as Mr Dawson left the kitchen. "Kiara, come and sit down, sweetie, and Sian and I will make you some lunch, for you hardly ate at breakfast."

Sian threw me a small wink as she went with Grandmother Sarabi to the fire, as Chris and Chrissie sat either side of me, looking happier than they had done since I had first arrived at Pumbaa's house, and my feeling of giddy relief, which had been somewhat dented by my encounter with Narissa Malty, swelled again. The gloomy house seemed warmer and more welcoming all of a sudden; even Kleaner looked less ugly, as she poked her snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of the noise.

"'Course, once Ma turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you," said Chrissie happily, now dishing mounds of mashed potato on to everyone's plates.

"Yeah, she swung it for me," I said. I felt it would have sounded highly ungrateful, not to mention childish, to say, "I wish she had talked to me, though. Or even _looked_ at me."

But Sian, who seemed to know what I was thinking, said, "Don't worry, Kiara. I'm sure Ma had her reasons for not looking at you."

Before I could contemplate how Sian knew what I was thinking, the scar on my forehead burned so badly that I had to clap my hand to it.

"What is it, Kiara?" my father asked, concerned.

"Nothing, just my scar," I mumbled. "But it's nothing ... it happens all the time now, Daddy ... I'm fine, really ..."

I smiled reassuringly at him, but I'm not sure that he believed me.

None of the others, apart from Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Grandmother Sarabi and my mother hadn't noticed a thing; all of them were currently helping themselves to food while gloating over my narrow escape; Dave, Merida, Tanya and Geri were still singing, my parents looked rather worried and Sian looked rather anxious, but before she could say anything, Chris asked her, "Hey, Sian, do you know if Ma's coming over tonight to celebrate with us?"

"Oh, I don't think she'll be able to, I'm afraid, Rickers," she said, as Grandmother Sarabi set down a huge plate of roast chicken down in front of me. "From what I've heard, she's really very busy at the moment."

 _"SHE GOT OFF, SHE GOT OFF, SHE GOT OFF ..."_

"SHUT UP!" roared Grandmother Sarabi, as Sian rubbed her head, wincing in pain.

0000

Over the next few days that passed, I could not help noticing that there was one person within Pumbaa's house who did not seem wholly overjoyed that I would be returning to Dragon Mort. My mother had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, hugging and kissing me and beaming like the rest of them. Soon, however, she was moodier and surlier than before, talking less to everybody, even myself and my father, and spending increasing time on her own, shutting herself up in Pumbaa's mother's old room with Noelani.

"I'm sorry about your mother and the way she's been acting," my father said one day, when the two of us were in the parlour alone, where I had got him alone after lunch, to confess my feelings to him. "I'm afraid she's had a secret wish for you to be expelled so that you can live with us. So don't you go feeling guilty, Kiara, for it's not your fault!"

"I won't," I told him quickly. "But doesn't Mum realise that my education is important?"

"Of course she does. It's just that she and I have been alone for so long, first with your brother dying and then with Zira almost killing you ... well, let's just say, she's very glad to have her daughter back - as am I, don't get me wrong - but she's now got it in her head that, by you being expelled, that she'd try and make you a miniature version of herself."

"What? That's insane!" I said indignantly. My father nodded sadly at my words.

"I know it is, Kiara, but I think your mother feels insecure." At my questioning look, he continued, "You see, my dear, your mother thinks that my mother is trying to take her place, for after all, she's doing all the tings for you that your mother wants to do, but my mother keeps on getting in the way."

"Oh, poor Mum," I sighed. "But surely she knows that Grandmother Sarabi doesn't do it on - ?"

"Of course she doesn't! It's just that your mother hasn't been with you for so long, and it's a mother's job to always look out for her baby. I'm your father, and I protect you, that's my job. Don't worry, I'll talk to your mother later, and ask her to lessen up around you."

"Thanks, Daddy," I said. He kissed my forehead and we went to join the rest of the group.

0000

As the end of the holidays approached, I found myself daydreaming more and more about Dragon Mort; I could not wait to see Mina again, to play Quidditch, even to stroll across the vegetable patches to the Herbology greenhouses; I loved my parents and Grandmother Sarabi dearly, don't get me wrong, but I really wanted to get out of the dusty, musty house, where half of the cupboards were still bolted shut and Kleaner wheezed insults out of the shadows when anyone passed, though I was careful not to say any of this within earshot of my parents.

The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Zira movement was not nearly as interesting as I expected it to be before I'd experienced it. Though members of the Order of the Centaur came and went regularly, sometimes staying for meals, sometimes only for a few minutes of whispered conversation, Grandmother Sarabi made sure that myself and the others were kept well out of earshot (whether Electronic or normal) and nobody, not even my own parents (though my mother told me she wanted to say something, my father stood firmly against it, which only angered my mother further), seemed to feel that I needed to know anything more than I had heard on the night of my arrival.

On the very last day of the holidays (thank God!), I was sweeping up Harold's droppings from the top of the wardrobe when Chrissie entered our bedroom carrying a couple of envelopes.

"Booklists have arrived," she said, throwing one of the envelopes up to me, which I caught stood on a chair. "About time, too, for I'd thought they'd forgotten; they usually come much earlier than this ..."

I swept the last of the droppings into a rubbish bag and threw the bag over Chrissie's head into the wastepaper basket in the corner, which swallowed it and belched loudly. I opened my letter. It contained two pieces of parchment: one was the usual reminder that term started on the first of September; the other, telling me which books I would need for the coming year.

"Only three new ones," I said, reading my list. " _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ by Miranda goshawk, _Defensive Magical Theory_ , by William Slinkhard, and _A More Complex Look Into Modern Muggle Life_ , by Kelly Foosenbrough."

 _Crack._

Tanya and Geri Apparated right beside me. I was so used to them doing this by this point that I didn't even fall off my chair.

"We were just wondering who set the Slinkhard book," said Tanya conversationally.

"Because it means Aunt Sue's found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Geri.

"And about time too," said Tanya.

"What d'you mean?" I said, jumping down beside them.

"Well, we overheard Sarabi and Uncle Matt talking on the Electronic Ears a few weeks back," Tanya told me, "and from what they were saying, Aunt Sue was having real trouble finding anyone to do the job this year."

"Not surprising, is it, when you look at what's happened to the last four," said Geri.

"One sacked, one dead, one's memory removed and one locked in a trunk for nine months," I said, counting them off on my fingers. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"What's up with you, Chrissie?" asked Tanya.

Chrissie did not answer. I looked round, and saw Chrissie standing very still with her mouth slightly open, gaping at her letter from Dragon Mort.

"What's the matter?" said Tanya impatiently, moving around Chrissie to look over her shoulder at the parchment.

Tanya's mouth fell open, too.

"Prefect?" she said, staring incredulously at the letter. _"Prefect?"_

Geri leapt forwards, seized the envelope from Chrissie's other hand and turned it upside-down. I saw something scarlet and gold fall into Geri's palm.

"No way," said Geri in a hushed voice.

"There's been a mistake," said Tanya, snatching the letter out of Chrissie's hand and holding it up to the light as though checking for a watermark. "No one in their right mind would make Chrissie a Prefect."

The twins' heads turned in unison and both stared at me.

"We thought you were certain to be one for sure!" said Tanya, in a tone that suggested I had tricked them in some way.

"We thought Aunt Sue was _bound_ to pick you!" said Geri indignantly.

"Winning the Triwizard and everything!" said Tanya.

"I suppose all the mad stuff must've counted against her," said Geri to Tanya.

"Yeah," said Tanya slowly. "Yeah, you've caused too much trouble, Kiara. "Well, at least one of you's got their priorities right."

I was in too much shock to voice my agreement with Tanya about the "too much trouble" thing, as she strode over to me and clasped my shoulder, whilst giving Chrissie a scathing look.

" _Prefect_ ... ickle Chrissie the Prefect."

"Oh, Sian's going to be revolting," groaned Geri, thrusting the Prefect badge back at Chrissie as though it might contaminate her.

Chrissie, who still had not said a word, took the badge, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to me, as though asking mutely for confirmation that it was genuine. I took it. A large "P" was superimposed on the Lion-Heart lion. the badge was familiar to me, for I had seen Perdy wear one exactly like it on my very first day at Dragon Mort.

The door banged open loudly. Sian came tearing into the room, followed reluctantly by Chris (I figured she must have unwillingly dragged him up there), her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. They were both carrying letters in their hands.

"Did you - did you get - ?" she panted.

They spotted the badge in my hand. Sian shrieked, and a large grin spread across Chris' face.

"I knew it!" she said excitedly, brandishing her letter. "Us too, Kiara, us too!"

"No," I said quickly, pushing the badge back into Chrissie's hand. "It's Chrissie, not me."

"It - what?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Chrissie's Prefect, not me."

 _"Chrissie?"_ said Sian, hers and Chris' jaws dropping. "But ... are you sure? I mean - "

She turned red as Chrissie looked round at her and Chris with a defiant expression on her face.

"It's my name on the letter," she said.

"I ..." said Sian, looking just as bewildered as Chris. "I ... well ... Wow!"

"Yeah, "wow" is the word, all right," Chris muttered. Tanya and Geri snickered. Sian glared at them.

"Well done, Chrissie!" she said, turning back to her sister. "That's really - "

"Unexpected," said Geri, nodding.

"Oh, shush, Geri, don't talk like that!" Sian quieted her. "Chrissie's done a few good things, I suppose ... besides, I think Ma must think that this is a good opportunity for you to gain some responsibility, Chrissie."

Chrissie looked uncertain about this, as the door behind Chris and Sian opened a little wider. Grandmother Sarabi backed into the room carrying a pile of freshly laundered robes.

"Merida says the booklists have come at last," she said, glancing around at all the envelopes as she made her way over to one of the beds and started sorting the robes into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Brickabon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing. Do you need anything?"

"I know Chrissie needs a new nightgown, Sarabi," said Sian. "The one she's got is too short for her. Tell Sarabi what you'd like, Chrissie."

"Get her red and gold to match her badge, Sarabi," said Geri, smirking.

 _"Geri,"_ Sian hissed warningly, but she was ignored.

"Match her what?" said Grandmother Sarabi absently, rolling up a pair of green socks and placing them on Chrissie's pile."

"Her _badge_ ," said Tanya, with the air of getting the worst over quickly. "Her lovely, shiny new _Prefect's badge_."

Tanya's words took a moment to penetrate Grandmother Sarabi's preoccupation with pyjamas.

"Her ... but ... Chrissie, you're not ... ?"

Chrissie held up her badge, as did Chris and Sian.

Grandmother Sarabi let out a shriek just like Sian's; sure, the Dawsons were not her children, but they were as good as.

"I don't believe it! Oh, your father is going to be so proud of you! But ... wait ..." she looked at me, and something on my face must have shown disappointment because she came up to me and hugged me. "Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry ..."

"It's OK, Grandmother," I said. "I'm fine, really."

Grandmother Sarabi pulled back and gave me a long scrutinizing look. After a couple of minutes, she seemed satisfied that I really was all right, so she turned back to Chris, Sian and Chrissie and said, "Oh, this is wonderful news! I'm sure your parents are very proud of you! You three are on your first steps to becoming Head Boy or Girl for the school! This is wonderful news to receive in the middle of all this worry. Come here you three ..."

Tanya and Geri were both making loud retching noises behind her back, but Grandmother Sarabi did not notice; she held Chris, Sian and Chrissie tightly; Chrissie looked like she was wishing that she wasn't there, and Chris' cheeks were flushed with embarrassment, but Sian was pleased, and returned the hug gratefully with her eyes closed, clearly proud of herself.

Grandmother Sarabi let go of them after a while, and said breathlessly, "Well, your father drew some money out of your vault for your school supplies, so what will it be? I know that Perdy got an owl, but you and Chris have already got an owl each, Chrissie, and Sian has her cat, so ..."

"W-what do you mean?" said Chris, looking as though he did not dare believe his ears.

"You three each deserve a reward for this!" said Grandmother Sarabi fondly. "I'm sure your parents won't mind. Now, do any of you need a new set of dress robes?"

"We've already bought Chrissie some new ones," said Tanya sourly, who looked as though she sincerely regretted this generosity.

"Very well. Chris, Sian, how about you two?"

"I'm good," said Sian.

"Me, too," said Chris. "But I'd like a new chess set, if that's all right?"

"Of course, Chris," said Grandmother Sarabi. "Chrissie, what about you?"

"Hmm ... I'd like a new broom. Nothing fancy, mind, but just a new one."

"I'll see what they have for you, dear," said Grandmother Sarabi, patting Chrissie's cheek. "Sian, what would you like?"

"What I would like is an orchid. Nothing special or magical, just an ordinary orchid. Preferably in blue or purple - that is, if you don't mind going into the Muggle world to look for one, Sarabi?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that, Sian. I've been in the Muggle world many times. It's no trouble at all," said Grandmother Sarabi, giving Sian a fond smile, which she returned. Then she clapped her hands together and said, "Well, I'd better get going if I've got a broom, a new chess set and an orchid to buy, too. I'll see you all later ... and don't forget to pack your trunks! Oh, you three ... Prefects! Oh, this calls for a party tonight, I feel!"

She gave Chris, Sian and Chrissie a kiss on the cheek each, gave me a sympathetic smile and bustled from the room.

Tanya and Geri exchanged looks.

"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Chrissie?" said Tanya, in a falsely anxious voice.

"We could curtsey, if you like," said Geri.

"Oh, shut up, you two," said Chris. "Chrissie didn't want this, and you two know it. So lay off."

"Or what?" said Tanya, an evil grin spreading across her face. "Going to put us in detention?"

"I'd love to see them try," sniggered Geri.

"We could do if you don't watch out!" said Sian angrily.

Tanya and Geri burst out laughing, and Chrissie muttered, "Drop it, Sian."

"We're going to have to watch our step, Geri," said Tanya, pretending to tremble, "with these three on our case ..."

"Yeah, it looks like our law-breaking days are finally over," said Geri, shaking her head.

And with another loud _crack_ , the twins Disapparated.

"Those two!" said Sian fiercely, staring up at the ceiling, through which we heard Tanya and Geri roaring with laughter in the room upstairs. "Don't pay them any attention, Chrissie, it's not worth the time or the trouble."

"You're right, Sian," said Chrissie, smiling at her sister. "Besides, they're always saying that only prats become Prefects, but at least I'm getting a new broom. I'm not asking for a Scoot-Zoomer or a Nimbus, but I have heard there's a new Cleansweep out, that'd be great ... yeah, I think I'll go and tell Sarabi I like the Cleansweep, just so she knows ..."

She dashed from the room, leaving Chris, Sian and I alone.

For some reason, I found I did not want to look at either of them, so I turned to my bed, picked up the pile of clean robes Grandmother Sarabi had laid on it and crossed the room to my trunk.

"Well ... er ... I'm going to ... um ... call - call Dad ... and tell him the news. Excuse me." Sian then hurried from the room, leaving Chris and I alone.

"Kiara?" he said, after a few moments.

"Well done, Chris," I said, so heartily that it didn't sound like my voice at all, and, still not looking at him, "brilliant. You and Sian and Chrissie. Prefects. Great."

"Oh, come on, Kiara, don't be like this," said Chris. I felt rather than heard him approach me from behind. "Look, I know you're disappointed that you haven't been made a Prefect, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on us. Ma has her reasons, I'm sure, but Sian, Chrissie and I were chosen, Kiara, so you can't blame us for this, all right?"

I didn't speak, but I did nod after a few moments. I felt Chris stroke some hair out of my face, and I felt a powerful feeling surge through me as he did so; then, to my surprise, he kissed my temple tentatively, and before I could say or do anything, Chris had left the room.

I leaned over my trunk, laid my robes in the bottom of it, and stayed leaning over it after the door had closed, listening carefully; the only sounds heard were the blank portrait on the wall sniggering again and the wastepaper basket in the corner coughing up the owl droppings.

Not hearing footsteps outside, I moved to my bed, sat down upon it, and gazed unseeingly at the foot of the wardrobe, thinking ...

I had forgotten completely about Prefects being chosen in the fifth year. I had been too anxious with the possibility of being expelled to spare a thought for the fact that badges must be winging their way towards certain people. But if I _had_ remembered ... if I _had_ thought about it ... I wondered, what would I have expected?

 _Not this_ , said a small, truthful voice inside my head.

I buried my face in my hands. I didn't lie to myself; if I'd have known the Prefect badge was on its way, I would have expected it to come to me, not Chrissie. I wondered if this made me as arrogant as Dani Malty, or (quite possibly) her cousin, Keziah Rea-Bradley? I then wondered if I thought myself superior to everyone else, and whether or not I was _better_ than Chrissie!

 _No_ , the small voice said defiantly.

Was that true? I couldn't help but think, as I anxiously probed my own feelings.

 _I'm better at Quidditch_ , said the voice. _But I'm not better at anything else._

That was definitely true, I thought; I was no better than Chrissie at school in our lessons. But then, I thought, what about _outside_ lessons? What about those adventures Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had had together since starting at Dragon Mort, often risking much worse than expulsion.

 _Well, Chris, Sian and Chrissie were with me most of the time_ , said the voice in my head.

Not all the time, though, I argued with myself. They didn't fight Quarrel with me. They didn't take on Malliay and the Lizsnabadra (well, except Sian, who helped me out a bit). They didn't get rid of all the Stingers the night my parents escaped. They weren't in that graveyard with me, the night Zira returned.

And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed me on the night I arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, I thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!

 _But maybe_ , said the voice in my head fairly, _maybe Crighton doesn't choose Prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations ... maybe she chooses them for other reasons ... Chrissie must have something you don't ... after all, she_ is _one of Crighton's children ..._

I opened my eyes and stared through my fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Tanya said: "No one in their right mind would make Chrissie a Prefect ..."

I gave a small snort of laughter. A second later, I felt sickened with myself.

Chrissie had not asked her mother to give her the Prefect badge. This was not Chrissie's fault. When I thought about it, I found it ridiculous that I, Kiara, was going to sulk, just because Chrissie, one of my best friends in the world, got a Prefect badge and I didn't, laugh with the twins behind Chrissie's back, ruin this for Chrissie when, for the first time, she had beaten me at something? No! Of course I wasn't. After all, it's a pretty pathetic thing to fall out with someone over, isn't it?

It was then that I heard Chrissie's footsteps on the stairs again. I stood up and hitched a grin on my face as Chrissie bounded back through the door.

"Just caught her!" she said happily. "She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can."

"Cool," I said, and I was relieved to hear that my voice had lost its hearty tone. "Listen - Chrissie - well done."

The smile faded off Chrissie's face.

"I never thought it would be me!" she said, shaking her head. "I thought it would be you!"

"Nah, I've caused too much trouble," I said, echoing Tanya.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, "yeah, I suppose ... well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?"

It was odd how widely our possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since we arrived. It took us most of the afternoon to retrieve our books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside our school trunks. I noticed that Chrissie kept moving her Prefect's badge around, first placing it on her bedside table, then putting it into her jeans pocket, then taking it out and lying it on her folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the navy blue. Only when Tanya and Geri dropped in and offered to attach it to her forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did she wrap it tenderly in her green socks and locked it in her trunk.

Grandmother Sarabi returned from Brickabon Alley around six o'clock, laden with books and carrying a new chess set for Chris, a lavender-blue orchid for Sian and a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Chrissie took from her with a moan of longing.

"Never mind opening it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want you all downstairs," she said, but the moment she was out of sight, Chrissie ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of her new broom, an ecstatic expression on her face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **The Woes of Grandmother Sarabi**

 **KIARA**

When we got to the basement, we found that Grandmother Sarabi had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily-laden dinner table, which read:

CONGRATULATIONS

CHRIS, SIAN AND CHRISSIE

NEW PREFECTS

She looked in a better mood than I had seen her all summer.

"I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner," she told Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Chris, Joe, Jack, Ben Dave, Kopa, Tanya and Geri as we entered the room. "Chris, Sian, Chrissie, your father and Sam are on their way. I know that Sian already sent word to your father already, but I've sent Sam an owl, and she's told me that she and your father are both _thrilled_ ," she added, beaming.

Tanya rolled her eyes.

My parents, Pumbaa, Meers, Todd and Kara Shackles were already there and Crazy-Head Grumpy stumped in shortly after I got myself a Butterbeer.

"Oh, Aoife, I'm glad you're here," said Grandmother Sarabi brightly, as Crazy-Head shrugged off her travelling cloak. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages - could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty."

"No problem, Sarabi ..."

Grumpy's second eye on the left-hand side of her head swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

"Drawing room ..." she growled, as the pupil contracted. "Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it ... yeah, it's a Boggart ... want me to go up and get rid of it, Sarabi?"

"No, no, I'll do it myself later," beamed Grandmother Sarabi, "you have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually ..." she gestured at the scarlet banner. "The three eldest Dawson kids Prefects!" she said fondly, gazing at Chris, Sian and Chrissie as proudly as their mother would have done.

"Prefects, eh?" growled Grumpy, her normal eyes on Chris, Sian and Chrissie, as the eye that was fixed on the drawing room started swivelling in all directions again. One of them swivelled around to gaze into the side of her head. I had a very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at me, so I moved towards where my parents, Meers and Pumbaa were.

"Well, congratulations," said Grumpy, still glaring at Chris, Sian and Chrissie with her normal eyes, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Crighton thinks her kids can withstand most major jinxes or she wouldn't have appointed you ..."

Chris and Chrissie both looked rather startled at this view of the matter, whereas Sian looked as calm as the sea before the storm, and the three of them were saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of Sam and their father, along with, to my surprise, Harry, his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, and a witch I had never seen before: she had long red hair, brown eyes and freckles and she was on Harry's arm, which made me think that she was Harry's wife and Ron's sister, Ginny. Grandmother Sarabi was pleased with this - in fact, she was so happy that she did not even complain when she saw Mona Fetch bringing up the rear of the new arrivals; she was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Grumpy's travelling cloak.

"Well, I think a toast is in order," said Mr Dawson, once everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet and proclaimed: "To Chris, Sian and Chrissie, the new Lion-Heart Prefects!"

Chris, Sian and Chrissie beamed as we all drank to them, and then applauded as Mr Dawson hugged and kissed the three of them. Sian, naturally, got the most praise from her father.

"Ha-ha! Well done, Siany! I've had high hopes for you ever since you started Dragon Mort, and wasn't I right, eh?" Mr Dawson then kissed Sian on the head and held her tight. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Dad," said Sian, her face conveying expressions of both pride and love.

"Kiara!"

My attention was then held by Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, who were smiling warmly at me. I smiled back at them and waved.

"Kiara, it's good to see you again," said Harry, once he, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had reached me. "And may I just say, congratulations for being proven innocent. I was going to send you an owl, but I thought it would be better to tell you in person."

"Thanks, Harry. It's good to see you again, too," I said. I looked at the three people gazing at me questioningly, and Harry, who seemed to know what I was thinking, answered.

"Oh, sorry. This is my wife, Ginny, her brother and one of my best friends, Ron, and his wife and my other best friend, Hermione. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, this is Kiara Pride-Lander. And please, Kiara, we are all friends here, so don't bother about formalities, OK?"

I nodded eagerly, for I wasn't keen on formalities, either.

"So, Harry," I asked him, "about the statue ... I thought you didn't like it? So why won't they - "

" - take it down?" Harry finished for me. I nodded. He sighed and said, "Well, Kiara, I've tried, year after year since that statue has been put up to convince the Ministry to take it down, but the bloody fools in charge there say they won't, because it gives people hope and morale, so they do nothing about it. But that doesn't stop me from giving up though."

There was an uncomfortable silence after these words, which Hermione fortunately broke in a rather excitable tone.

"It's so good to finally meet you," said Hermione breathlessly. "We've heard a lot about you from Sian. She speaks fondly of you, you know."

"She does?"

"Oh, yes. You can tell; her eyes go softer when your name is mentioned. She thinks very highly of you, Kiara, despite what you may think. Anyway, it's good to know you're not expelled - well, they had no right to do so, really."

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Sian said so, and she used quite a few more words, as well."

"Sounds like someone we know," Ron muttered into his drink, smirking. Hermione ignored him.

"I thought she would," said Hermione, nodding. "It's just what I told Harry when he had his hearing. Now, where is Sian? Ah, I see her - over there, talking to Kopa. I think I'll join them. Besides, I want to continue our house-elf discussion."

"Oh, bloodyhell, Hermione, do you have to discuss it tonight?" said Ron exasperatedly. "This is a party, so relax and enjoy yourself, and leave the house-elf stuff for the office, will you?"

"I will do nothing of the sort, Ronald!" said Hermione indignantly. "You know how much this cause means to me, and how much work there still needs to be done! Now, if you'll excuse me ..." and with that, she marched over to where Sian and Kopa were.

Harry, Ginny, Ron and I watched her go. Ron turned to us and said, "I'd better go after her. Someone's got to try and keep an eye on this argument and make sure it doesn't get out of hand."

"You're not looking forward to it, are you?" I asked him, already knowing the answer before the words left my mouth.

"No, not really, but someone's got to do it. We'll try and talk later, Kiara, OK?" I nodded, and he smiled briefly at me, before he went after his wife.

I then turned to Ginny, who said, "So, Kiara, are you interested in Quidditch at all?"

"Oh, yes," I answered. "Very. I play Seeker for my house at Dragon Mort."

"Wow. You any good?"

"Apparently I'm the best Lion-Heart's had for a few years now, but I don't know about that."

"Oh don't be so modest, Kiara," said Ginny. "Be proud of your achievements. You know," she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "the similarities between you and Harry are amazing ..."

"Well, just be grateful that Harry married you and not me, then, Ginny," I said, in a tone that I didn't hope sound scornful, for Ginny had nothing to be jealous about; I worried for nothing, however, for both Harry and Ginny laughed at my comment, before they went to get drinks and join the party.

"I never was a Prefect myself," said Todd, her voice directing me towards her. I went with her and a few others to the table to get some food. Todd's hair was dark brown, waist-length and curled inwardly, so that she looked like Sian's older sister. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Chris, who was choosing a baked potato.

"Like the ability to behave myself," said Todd.

Merida laughed; Chris rolled his eyes, took a swig of Butterbeer and choked on it.

"What about you, Nala?" Merida asked, as I thumped Chris on the back. We both gasped at the electricity we felt scorching through us, but I didn't pay much attention to it, for I was interested in what my mother had to say.

My mother, who was stood next to my father, let out a snort of derision at the comment.

"No one would have made me a Prefect, for I spent too much time in detention. Simba and Timon were the Prefects along with Fiona Goldberg (as she was known at the time), so they got the badges."

"I think Crighton might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends, and to give me some responsibility," said my father. "The responsibility thing I got - well, eventually - but keeping an eye on Nala and her friends was a lot harder than I had bargained for."

"I thought you had all been close friends from the start, Daddy?" I asked, confused.

My parents looked at each other, unsure of what to tell me, before my father turned to me and said, "We drifted apart somewhere in the middle. After all, when you're at that age, you're still trying to find yourself, but we're as close as ever now." My father smiled at me, walked up to me, kissed my temple and said, "Don't worry about not getting a badge, love. Look at your mother, she never got a badge, and look at the wonderful person she is."

My mood suddenly lifted at those words. I turned to my father and said, "Thanks, Daddy." He smiled, hugged me and walked back to Mum. The party seemed much more enjoyable to me after that; I loaded up my plate, feeling doubly fond of everyone in the room at that moment.

Chrissie was rhapsodising about her new broom to anyone who would listen.

" ... nought to eighty in four point eight seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Three Sixteen's only nought to seventy and that's with a decent tailwind according to _Which Broomstick?_ "

Sian and Hermione were arguing over elf rights.

"Sian, surely you must see that all house-elves are slaves to us, who have to do our whim? We can't just leave them be just because they're happy where they are?"

"That may be, Hermione, but we can't just barge into someone's home and ask the witch or wizard who lives there to release their elf. It doesn't work like that. In my opinion, it depends on the house-elf's living standards and how they are treated that have to be taken into consideration before we go about trying to free every elf in the world to ensure that their standard of living is better ..."

Grandmother Sarabi was trying to persuade Sam to grow her hair out.

" ... call me old-fashioned, Sam, but I find it much too short for a girl. I reckon if you grew it out, it would frame your pretty face well. What do you think, Kiara?"

"Oh - I dunno - " I said, slightly alarmed that my opinion was being asked for; to avoid confrontation, I slid away from them in the direction of Tanya and Geri, who were huddled in a corner with Mona.

Mona stopped talking when she saw me, but Tanya winked and beckoned me closer.

"It's OK," she told Mona, "we can trust Kiara, seeing as she's our financial backer."

"Look what Mona's got us," said Geri, holding out her hand to me. It was full of what looked like shrivelled black pods. A faint rattling noise came from them, even though they were completely stationary.

"Venemous Tentacular seeds," said Geri. "We need them for the Gross Body Boxes, but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance, so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them."

"Ten Galleons the lot, then, Mona?" said Tanya.

"Wiv all the trouble I went to get 'em?" said Mona, her saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. "I'm sorry, girls, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty."

"Mona likes her little joke," Tanya told me.

"Yeah, her best one so far has been seven Sickles for a bag of Knarl quills," said Geri.

"Be careful," I warned them quietly.

"What?" said Tanya. "Sarabi's busy cooing over Chris, Sian and Chrissie. We're fine."

"You won't be if Grumpy catches you with those eyes of hers," I pointed out.

Mona looked nervously over her shoulder.

"Good point, that," she grunted. "All right, girls, ten it is, if you take 'em quick."

"Cheers, Kiara," said Tanya delightedly, when Mona had emptied her pockets into the twins' outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. "We'd better get these upstairs ..."

As I watched them go, I felt slightly uneasy. It occurred to me at that point that Mr Dawson (and Grandmother Sarabi, too) would have wanted to know how Tanya and Geri were financing their joke shop business when, as was inevitable, they finally found out about it. When I gave the twins my Triwizard winnings, it had seemed like such a simple thing to do at the time, but I couldn't help but wonder if it led to another family row and a Perdy-like estrangement. I couldn't help but wonder how Grandmother Sarabi would feel when she found out, for I know how she felt about Tanya and Geri opening a joke shop ...

I was standing where the twins had left me, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit of my stomach for company, when I caught the sound of my own name. Kara Shackles' calm voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.

" ... why Crighton didn't make Pride-Lander a Prefect?" said Kara.

"She'll have her reasons," said Meers.

"But it would've shown confidence in her. It's what I'd've done," persisted Kara, "'specially with the _Daily Squabbler_ having a go at her every few days ..."

I did not look round; I did not want Meers or Kara to know what I had heard. Though I was not remotely hungry, I followed Mona back towards the table. My pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; at that moment, I longed for the peace and security of my bedchamber.

Crazy-Head Grumpy was sniffing at a chicken leg with what remained of her nose; evidently, she did not detect any trace of poison, because she then tore a strip off of it with her teeth.

"The handle's made of Italian oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control - " Chrissie told Todd.

Grandmother Sarabi yawned widely.

"Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in ... Matt, I don't want the kids up too late, all right? Night, Kiara."

"Night, Grandmother Sarabi," I said. She kissed me on the cheek and left the kitchen. I set down my plate and wondered whether I could follow her without attracting attention. Unfortunately, I had forgotten about Grumpy's magical eyes.

"You all right, Pride-Lander?" grunted Grumpy.

"Yeah, fine," I lied.

Grumpy took a swig from her hip-flask, the electric-blue eye closest to me on top of her head fixed on me.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," she said.

From an inner pocket of her robes, Grumpy pulled out a very old wizarding photograph.

"Original Order of the Centaur," growled Grumpy. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Pods hasn't had the manners to return my best one ... thought people might like to see it."

I took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at me, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at me.

"There's me," said Grumpy, unnecessarily pointing at herself. The Grumpy in the picture was unmistakeable, though her hair was slightly less grey and her nose was intact. "And there's Crighton beside me, Delilah Doddle on the other side ... that's Mark McKinnon, he was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got his whole family. That's Alex and Fiona Bore - "

My stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as I looked at Alex Bore; I knew his round, friendly face very well, even though I had never met him, because he was the image of his daughter, Nikita.

" - poor devils, better dead than what happened to them ... and that's Emmett Vann, you've met him, and that's Meers, obviously ... there's Pumbaa ... blimey, he's put weight on since this was taken ... Betty Fension, she copped it too, we only ever found bits of her ... shift aside there," she added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

"That's Evan Bongo ... brother of Arnold Bongo, they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard ... Simone Pods, blimey, she looks young ... Celine Dane, vanished six months after this, we never found her body ... Mina, of course, looks exactly the same as ever ... Ellie Dodge, you've met her, I'd forgotten she used to wear that stupid hat ... Geraldine Heines, it took five Love Destroyers to kill her and her sister Faye, they fought like heroes ... budge along, budge along ..."

The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves and those hidden right in the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.

"That's Crighton's sister Sara, only time I've ever met her, strange woman ... that's Derek Merdoch, Zira killed him personally ... Sarabi, when she was a bit younger, though you'd never know ... and ... there you go, I thought that would interest you!"

My heart turned over. There were my parents beaming at me, the effects of Azkaban not there on either of them (for after all, this was before they were in Azkaban), and they were sitting on either side of a small, watery-eyed man whom I recognised as Wormy, the one who had betrayed my parents' whereabouts to Zira with the help of his wife Alice, and thus almost killed us in the Pride-Lands.

"Eh?" said Grumpy.

I looked up into Grumpy's heavily scarred and pitted face. Evidently Grumpy was under the impression she had just given me a bit of a treat.

"Yeah," I said, once again attempting to grin. "Er ... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my ..."

I was spared the trouble of inventing an object I had not packed, for my mum had chosen that moment to speak.

"What's that you've got there, Crazy-Head?" and Grumpy turned towards her and my father. Unnoticed by anyone, I then crossed the kitchen, slipped through the door and up the stairs before anyone could call me back.

I did not know why it had come as such a shock to me; after all, I had seen pictures of my parents before this point, and I had met Wormy and his wife ... but to have them sprung on me like that, when I was least expecting it ... well, who would like that, I thought angrily ...

And then, to see them surrounded by all those other happy faces ... Betty Fension, who had been found in bits, and Geraldine Heines, who had died like a hero, and the Bores, who had been tortured into madness ... all waving out of the photograph for ever more, not knowing that they were doomed ... Well, Grumpy might've found it interesting ... I, on the other hand, found it disturbing ...

I tiptoed up the stairs in the hall past the stuffed elf-heads, glad to be on my own again, but as I approached the first landing I heard noises. Someone was sobbing in the drawing room.

"Hello?" I said.

There was no answer but the sobbing continued. I climbed the remaining stairs two at a time, walked across the landing and opened the drawing room door.

Someone was cowering against the dark wall, her wand in her hand, her whole body shaking with sobs. Sprawled on the dusty old carpet in a patch of moonlight, clearly dead, was Chrissie.

I was in so much shock that I couldn't scream, as all the air seemed to vanish from my lungs; I felt as though I was falling through the floor; my brain turned icy cold - Chrissie dead, no, it couldn't be -

And then the rational part of my brain kicked in, for Chrissie couldn't be dead, for she was downstairs in the kitchen -

"Grandmother Sarabi?" I croaked.

 _"R-r-riddikulus!"_ Grandmother Sarabi sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Chrissie's body.

 _Crack._

Chrissie's body turned into my father's, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Grandmother Sarabi sobbed harder than ever.

 _"R-riddikulus!"_ she sobbed again.

 _Crack._

My mother's body replaced my father's, a trickle of blood running down her face.

"No!" Grandmother Sarabi moaned. "No ... _riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!_ "

 _Crack._ Dead Chris. _Crack._ Dead Mr Dawson. _Crack._ Dead Sian. _Crack._ Dead me.

"Grandmother Sarabi, just get out of here!" I shouted, staring down at my own dead body on the floor. "Come on, let's get you some tea and let someone else - "

"What's going on?"

My father came running into the room, closely followed by Meers, with Grumpy stumping along behind them. My father ran to my grandmother and held her trembling body tight, as Meers looked from my grandmother to the dead me on the floor and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his own wand, he said, very firmly and clearly:

 _"Riddikulus!"_

My body vanished (which was a great relief to my mind, let me tell you). A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Meers waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Oh - oh - oh!" Grandmother Sarabi gulped, and she broke into a stream of crying, with her face buried into my father's chest.

"Shh, it's all right, Mum," my father soothed her, kissing her head. "It was just a stupid Boggart. It wasn't real. We're all safe."

"I-I'm sorry," she cried. "It's just, I-I-I see you and N-Nala and the D-Dawson kids dead all the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it!"

My father was staring at the patch of carpet where the Boggart, pretending to be my body, had lain, his face white, and looking very worried. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Grumpy was looking at me, but I avoided her gaze. I had a funny feeling that one of Grumpy's magical eyes had followed me all the way out of the kitchen.

"D-d-don't tell anyone," Grandmother Sarabi was gulping, drying her eyes with a handkerchief. "I d-d-don't want them to know ... I'm being silly ..."

It was then that she noticed that I was in the room, and her face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, Kiara, I'm so sorry. What must you think of me?" Grandmother Sarabi said shakily, trying to laugh it off. "Not even able to get rid of a Boggart ..."

"Don't be stupid," I said, trying to smile. "It's natural to be afraid in these times, Grandmother. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm just s-s-so worried," said Grandmother Sarabi, tears spilling out of her eyes again. "I-I mean that you, Nala, Matt and I are in the Order, Simba, a-and even though t-t-the Dawson kids aren't mine, in my heart, I-I-I feel like they are. A-and even though you're a man now, S-Simba, you're still my baby, and if anything e-ever happened to us, who's going to look after Kiara, Chris, Sian, C-C-Chrissie and the others?"

"Mum, that's enough," my father said firmly. "This isn't like last time. We have people who fought against Voldemort working alongside us. Besides, we're better prepared this time around, we've got a head start, we know what Zira's up to and we know that she's using all her powers to get what she wants. Now, about what happens to Kiara, Sian and the others if anything ever happens to us, Nala or Matt. Mum, I can't promise no one's ever going to get hurt, no one can. But what I do know is that we have good friends who will be there to take care of our children for us if the worst comes to the worst. I mean, at least it wasn't like last time when we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Love Destroyers and they were picking us off one by one ..."

I thought of the photograph again, and all of the people beaming at me. I knew Grumpy was watching me.

"B-b-but, what about P-P-Perdy?" Grandmother Sarabi sobbed. "W-w-what if she never speaks to a-any of us ever again?"

"Don't worry about Perdy?" said Meers abruptly. "She'll come round. It's only a matter of time before Zira moves into the open; once she does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology," he added bitterly.

"Timon's right," my father said. "And Kiara's right, too. In these times, it's natural to be worried, we all are. So don't even think about being ashamed, Mum, for you have nothing to be ashamed about."

Grandmother Sarabi smiled tremulously.

"Being silly," she muttered again, mopping her eyes.

But as I closed my bedroom door behind me some ten minutes later, I didn't think my grandmother was being silly. I saw my parents smiling up at me from the tattered old photograph, unaware at the time that the lives of their friends were drawing to a close. The image of the Boggart posing as the corpse of my parents, Mr Dawson, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I in turn kept flashing before my eyes.

And then, without warning, the scar on my forehead seared with pain again and my stomach churned horribly.

"Cut it out," I said firmly, rubbing the scar as the pain receded.

"First sign of madness, talking to your own head," said a sly voice from the empty picture on the wall.

I ignored it. I remember feeling older than I had ever felt in my entire life so far at that point, and it seemed extraordinary to me that barely an hour before that moment I had been concerned about a joke shop and who had got a Prefect's badge. Funny how life works sometimes, isn't it?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Lincoln Lovedream**

 **KIARA**

I remember having a troubled night's sleep that night. My parents wove in and out of my dreams, never speaking; Grandmother Sarabi sobbed over Kleaner's dead body, watched by Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who were wearing crowns, and yet again I found myself walking down a corridor ending in a locked door. I awoke abruptly with my scar prickling to find Chrissie already dressed and talking to me.

" ... better hurry up, Sarabi's going ballistic, she says we're going to miss the subs ..."

There was a lot of commotion in the house that morning. From what I heard as I dressed at top speed, I gathered that Tanya and Geri had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the bother of carrying them, with the result that they hurtled straight into Merida and knocked her down two flights of stairs into the hall; Sian, Grandmother Sarabi and Mrs Warts were all screaming at the top of their lungs.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING - ?"

" - COULD HAVE CAUSED HER A SERIOUs INJURY, YOU IDIOTS - "

"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS - "

Chris came into the room, looking flustered, just as I put on my boots. Cattonia was flying around her cage like crazy, twittering excitedly.

"You ready yet?"

"Nearly. How's Merry doing? Is she OK?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Sarabi's patching her up as we speak, and Sian's giving Tanya and Geri a right mouthful," said Chris. "But now Crazy-Head's complaining that we can't leave unless Simone Pods is here, otherwise the guard will be one short.

"Guard?" I said. "We have to go to the Sub House with a guard?"

"No, _you_ have to go to the Sub House with a guard," Chris corrected me.

"Why?" I said irritably. "I thought Zira was supposed to be lying low, or are you telling me she's going to jump out from beneath a bush trying to do me in?"

"I don't know, it's just what Crazy-Head says," said Chris distractedly, looking at his watch, "but if we don't leave soon, we're definitely going to miss the subs."

"How're we getting to the Sub House, anyway?" I asked.

"Well, you'll be going with Sarabi in her car, and the rest of us are taking our family's cars to there."

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE?" Grandmother Sarabi roared, and Chris jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room. I placed Harold carefully into his cage and set off downstairs after Chris, dragging my trunk behind me.

Mrs Warts' portrait was howling with rage, but none of us were bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall would have roused her again, anyway.

"Right, Kiara, you're to come with Todd and I," shouted Grandmother Sarabi - over the repeated screeches of "SACKBRAINS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!" - "Leave your trunk and your owl, Aoife's going to deal with the luggage ... oh, for heaven's sake, Simba, Nala, Crighton said _no_!"

Two bear-like dogs had appeared, one on either side of me, as I was clambering over the various trunks clattering the hall to get to Grandmother Sarabi, one following me enthusiastically, as the other followed me hesitantly, as though unsure if this was the right thing to do.

"Oh, honestly ..." said Grandmother Sarabi despairingly. "Well, on your own heads be it, then!"

She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. The two black dogs and I followed her. The door slammed behind us and Mrs Warts' screeches were cut off instantly.

"Where's Todd?" I said, looking round as we walked down the path away from Pumbaa's house, which vanished the moment the door shut.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Grandmother Sarabi stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dogs in between her and I.

An old woman greeted us on the corner in front of two long black cars and Grandmother Sarabi's smaller red one. The woman had tightly curled white hair and wore a coral hat shaped like a pork pie.

"Wotcher, Kiara," she said, winking. "Better hurry up, hadn't we, Sarabi?" she added, checking her watch.

"I know, I know," Grandmother Sarabi moaned, lengthening her stride towards Todd, "but Crazy-Head wanted to wait for Simone ... I wish Matt could have got us a Portkey or something to make this easier, but what can he do? Seeing as he's married to Crighton, Sweets is clamping down on him harder than ever ... she won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days ... _how_ Muggles can stand travelling without magic ..."

But one of the great black dogs gave a joyful bark and gambolled around us, snapping at birds and chasing its own tail. I couldn't help laughing. My parents had been trapped inside for a very long time, but my father had enough sense to not draw attention to himself; he barked annoyingly at my mother, who trotted back to us in a sulk, huffing, as Grandmother Sarabi pursed her lips, clearly not impressed.

Then there was the matter of car space, for both dogs couldn't fit in the back of Grandmother Sarabi's car with me, so my mother went in the front with Grandmother Sarabi and Todd, and my father got in the back with me. My mother stretched across Todd and Grandmother Sarabi's laps, clearly content, but Grandmother Sarabi and Todd looked quite uncomfortable. My father rolled his eyes at this, and lay his head on my lap. I smiled and scratched his ears, which he seemed to enjoy, as he closed his eyes and relaxed.

"You buckled up back there, Kiara? Right, let's set off, then," said Grandmother Sarabi, and she started the car.

We set off pretty early that morning at about twenty past eight, so we arrived at the street which had the gutter leading to the Sub House at around ten to eleven. Once we got out of the car, we went through the gutter, down the waterslide and into the Sub House, where we found it packed with many students and their families, and above us were eight subs that were suspended by cranks, where they would be pulled along and dropped one by one into the ocean.

Just then, we heard a voice behind us.

"Sarabi! Sarabi! Over here!"

We turned around and saw Grandmother Sarafina waving at us. We dashed over to her and we held each other tight.

"Oh, Kiara," she said, once she had let go of me, "I'm so glad that you're going back to Dragon Mort. Have you enjoyed the remainder of your summer?"

"It's been OK, I guess," I said, "but I'm really happy to be going back to Dragon Mort, too, Grandmother Sarafina."

Grandmother Sarafina chuckled before she turned to Todd. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinising her. "You look ... familiar to me," she said slowly. "Have we met before?"

Todd laughed and said, "It's me, Todd, Sarafina."

Grandmother Sarafina looked and her, shocked, and said, "My word, you really can change your appearance, then?" We all laughed at this, until Grandmother Sarafina saw Grandmother Sarabi looking worried. "What is it, Sarabi?" she asked her, looking concerned.

"Oh, nothing, Sara. I hope the others make it in time, that's all," Grandmother Sarabi told her anxiously, staring behind her at the wall where new arrivals would come through.

"Nice dogs, Kiara!" called a girl with dreadlocks.

"Thanks, Leah," I said, grinning, as my mother wagged her tail frantically again, and my father looked slightly pleased with hemself.

"Oh good," said Grandmother Sarabi, sounding relieved, "here's Aoife with the luggage, look ..."

With a headscarf tied over her forehead and a fedora to hide the movement of her magical eyes underneath, Grumpy came limping through the wall pushing a trolley loaded with our trunks, Kopa not far behind her with the second.

"All OK," she muttered to Grandmother Sarabi and Todd, "don't think we were followed ..."

Seconds later, Mr Dawson emerged into the Sub House with Tanya, Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel and Merida. We had almost unloaded Grumpy's luggage trolley when Geri, Chris, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave turned up with Meers.

"No trouble?" Grumpy growled.

"Nothing," said Meers.

"I'll still be reporting Simone to Crighton," said Grumpy, "that's the second time she's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mona, she is."

"Well, look after yourselves," said Meers, shaking hands all round. He reached me last and gave me a hug. "You too, Kiara. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Grumpy, shaking my hand. "And don't forget, all of you - careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting you all," said Todd, hugging us girls. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

"Write to me when you can," Kopa said to us. Then his eyes rested on Sian, and a gentleness passed between them. "You in particular."

Sian giggled and said, "Don't worry. I will." I'm sure they were going to kiss, but seeing as we were all there watching them, they just hugged each other, poring all the love they had into that embrace, from what I could see.

A warning horn then sounded, which meant that we had five minutes to get on the subs; students around us were hurrying to the ramp.

"Quick, quick," said Grandmother Sarabi distractedly, hugging us all at random and catching me twice. "Write ... be good ... if you've forgotten anything we'll send it on ... on to the subs, now, hurry ..."

For one brief moment, one of the great black dogs reared on to its hind legs and placed its front paws on my shoulders, but Grandmother Sarabi shoved her away from me, hissing, "For heaven's sake, act more like a dog, Nala!" The other dog shook its head at her, but she ignored him. My father turned to me. I knelt down in front of him and hugged him, burying my face into his soft fur. "I love you," I whispered. I then pulled back, stood up, gave the dogs a brief smile, got my trunk and followed my friends.

"See you!" I called out to them over the chatter and noise of the wheels of the many trunks and students that were there, as I followed Chris, Sian and Chrissie up the stairs and to the subs. Once we reached the top, students pushed past us to get to the subs for their year. I turned round and looked at the people gathered below. I could just see the guard and the two black dogs; my mother's head rested on my father's shoulder, both of them looking up at me with pride shining in their eyes.

"They shouldn't have come with us," said Sian in a worried voice.

"Oh, lighten up," said Chrissie, "they haven't seen daylight for months."

"Well, you can see where Sian's coming from, Chrissie," said Chris. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they got the chance to get out and about for a little bit, but think about it: what if someone recognises them? What then?"

A feeling of worry flashed through me then, for I wondered if anyone did recognise them. I didn't want them to be put back in Azkaban again. But before I could worry about this further, Tanya interrupted my thoughts.

"Well," she said, clapping her hands together, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Leah. See you later," and she and Geri disappeared to the seventh year sub.

I saw Nikita standing on her own, looking lost. Feeling sorry for her, I said, "Hey, Nikita, want to sit with us?"

Nikita lifted her head and said, "Hey, Kiara. Are you sure?"

"Of course she is, Nikita," Sian spoke for me. "We're friends, after all. Come on." And Chris, Chrissie, Nikita and I followed Sian to the Dawsons' sub. Once we placed our trunks in the holders, I expected Chris, Sian and Chrissie to sit down with us. However, I saw them walking back out. Confused, I said, "Hey, aren't you three going to sit with us?"

Chris, Sian and Chrissie stopped, turned around and exchanged looks.

"Er - " said Chrissie.

"Well - " said Chris.

"Well - well - Chris, Chrissie and I have to go to the fifth year sub where the other Prefects are in the Prefect compartment," said Sian awkwardly.

Chrissie didn't look at me; she seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on her left hand. Chris, though, was looking apologetically at me.

"Oh," I said. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said Sian quickly. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the subs from time to time."

"Fine," I said again. "Well, I - I might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely," said Chrissie, casting a shifty, anxious look at me. "It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather - but we have to - I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Perdy," she finished defiantly.

"We know you're not, Chrissie," said Chris. "Come on, we'll be back before you know it. See you, Kiara."

"Yeah, see you," I said, giving a brief smile, but as Chris, Sian and Chrissie left and the door shut, I felt an odd sense of loss, for that was my first journey to Dragon Mort without Chrissie by my side.

"Come on, Kiara," said Merida from behind me. "Come and sit down, for we'll be leaving soon."

Merida was right, for there was a light flashing above us, telling us to buckle up, so I sat down next to Nikita, with Merida on my other side. Opposite us sat Beth and Kestrel, and a boy - a boy I had never seen before then, but certainly the most strangest boy - no, person - I have ever met in my entire life so far.

He had straggly, long, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows and protuberant eyes that gave him a permanently surprised look. I knew at that moment why Nikita looked at him oddly; it was because the boy gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Maybe it was the fact that he had his wand stuck behind his left ear for safekeeping, or that he wore a necklace made up of Butterbeer corks, or that he was reading a magazine upside-down. His eyes ranged over Nikita and came to rest on me.

Merida, seeing who I was looking at, said, "Kiara, Nikita, this is Lincoln Lovedream. He's in Beth and Kestrel's year. I know him 'cause Dave and I (and sometimes Ben) spend time with them."

"Merida's right, Kiara," said Kestrel, in her calm voice. "Beth and I invited him to join us, seeing as he was on his own. Don't be startled by his appearance. He's harmless, really. He dresses like this all the time, anyway. You'll get used to it in time, I'm sure."

"If you say so," I said, as the sub started moving along the crank towards the water. Lincoln still had his eyes on me over the top of his magazine, which was called _The Mystics_. He did not seem to blink as much as normal humans. He just kept staring at me, which I found uncomfortable, so I stared at my hands instead.

"So, Linc, did you have a good summer?" Beth asked.

"Yes," said Lincoln in a dreamy voice, without taking his eyes off of me. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. _You're_ Kiara Pride-Lander," he added.

I looked straight at him then, and simply stated, "I know I am."

Nikita chuckled, as did Beth, Kestrel and Merida. Lincoln then turned his eyes on Nikita instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," said Nikita hurriedly.

"No you're not," said Kestrel sharply. "Nikita Bore - Lincoln Lovedream. Merida forgot to add that he's in Raven-Wings."

"Knowledge is to power as wit is to love; if used in the right hands, great things can happen," Lincoln said in his dreamy voice.

He raised his upside-down magazine high enough to hide his face and fell silent. Nikita and I looked at each other with our eyebrows raised, as we were dropped into the water, but none of us noticed that. Beth, Kestrel and Merida suppressed giggles at our surprised looks.

The subs were submerged in water and carried us away from the land. Even though we were underwater, I could tell that the weather couldn't make up its mind; one moment the water looked bright and clear, and the next it was dark and murky.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" said Nikita.

"Another Remembrall?" I said, remembering the marble-like device Nikita's grandfather had sent her in an effort to improve her abysmal memory.

"No," sighed Nikita. "I could do with one, though, for I lost the old one ages ago ... no, look at this ..."

She dug the hand that was not keeping a firm grip on Tina into her schoolbag, and after a little bit of rummaging she pulled out what appeared to be a small grey cactus in a pot, except that it was covered with what looked like boils rather than spines.

 _"Mimbulus mimbletonia,"_ she said proudly.

I stared at the strange plant. It was pulsating slightly, giving it the rather sinister look of some diseased internal organ.

"It's really, really rare," said Nikita, beaming. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Dragon Mort, even. I can't wait to show it to Spud. My Great Aunt Annie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

I knew that Nikita's favourite subject was Herbology, but for the life of me I could not see what she would want with that stunted little plant thing.

"Does it - eh - do anything?" I asked.

"Loads of stuff!" said Nikita proudly. "It's got an amazing defensive mechanism. Here, hold Tina for me ..."

She dumped the toad into my lap and took a quill from her schoolbag. Lincoln Lovedream's popping eyes appeared over the top of his upside-down magazine again, to watch what Nikita was doing. Nikita held the _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ up to her eyes, her tongue between her teeth, chose a spot, and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of her quill.

Unfortunately, none of us were prepared for what happened next, for liquid squirted from every boil on the plant; thick, stinking, dark green jets of it. They hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Lincoln Lovedream's magazine; Beth, Kestrel and Merida had all flung their hands up just in time, so they looked like they were just wearing green hats, but seeing as I was holding Nikita's toad to keep her from escaping, I had nothing to use to cover my face, and thus I received a faceful. It smelled like rancid manure, and it took all my strength not to throw up.

Nikita, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook her head to get the worst out of her eyes.

"S-sorry," she gasped. "I haven't tried that before ... didn't realise it would be quite so ... don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," she added nervously, as I spat a mouthful on to the floor.

At that precise moment, someone transported into our sub.

"Oh ... hello, Kiara ..." said a nervous voice. "Um ... bad time?"

I wiped as much Stinksap off of my face with my Tina-free hand, before I slowly turned round to see who it was. A rather handsome boy with short, shiny black hair stood in the middle of the sub, smiling at me. It was Khan Chan, the Seeker on the Raven-Wings Quidditch team.

"Oh ... hi," I said blankly.

"Um ..." said Khan. "Well ... I thought I'd just pop by to say hello ... see you later."

With his face quite flushed, Khan quickly walked to the door of the next compartment, opened it and hurried off. I slumped back in my seat, not at all happy with myself. I would have liked Khan to have seen me smiling and laughing with a group of friends, no matter who they were, instead of being found holding Nikita's toad and covered in Stinksap.

"Never mind," said Kestrel bracingly. "Look, we can easily get rid of all this." She pulled out her wand _"Scourgify!"_

The Stinksap vanished.

"There. No harm done," said Kestrel, pocketing her wand.

"Sorry," said Nikita again, in a small voice.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie didn't turn up for nearly an hour after that, during which time the lunch table had been and gone. Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Nikita and I had finished our pumpkin pies and we were busy swapping Multi-Flavoured Fruit-Frog Cards when Chris, Sian and Chrissie were transported into our sub.

"I'm starving," said Chrissie, who sat down next to me after Beth, Kestrel and Merida moved to the seats across from us. Anyway, she grabbed a Multi-Flavoured Fruit-Frog from me, ripped open the wrapper, bit off the Frog's head and leaned back with her eyes closed, as though she had had a very exhausting morning.

"Why doesn't that surprise us?" Chris muttered. Chrissie ignored him.

"Well, there are three fifth-year Prefects from each house," said Sian, looking thoroughly disgruntled as she took her seat.

"And guess who's a Snake-Eyes' Prefect?" said Chrissie, still with her eyes closed.

"Malty," I replied at once, certain my worst fear would be confirmed.

"Course," Chris said bitterly, as Chrissie stuffed the rest of the Frog into her mouth and taking another, "along with that jerk, Perry Parker. How he got to be a Prefect when he's thicker than a concussed troll ..."

"And Rea-Bradley's one, too," said Sian. "You know, it's odd, but I think that Malty and Rea-Bradley fell out with each other over the summer."

"What makes you say that, S.D.?" I asked her.

"Well, for one thing, Keziah didn't sit next to her cousin," Sian said, "and she looked sad instead of malicious."

"Yeah, and sometimes Malty would say something like, "It's a pity that some of us were chosen as Prefects, when clearly they haven't got the right credentials for the job, and aren't fit to be Prefects"," said Chrissie. "I know it was directed at us, but I also think Malty directed it at her cousin, for Rea-Bradley looked like she was going to cry."

It was then that I remembered some moments from last year when Rea-Bradley would look apologetically at me and she would try to stop her cousin having a go at me, which made me say this: "Do you guys think that Rea-Bradley's having a change of heart?"

"What makes you say that, Kiara?" Sian said, looking at me curiously.

"Well, last year, when Malty and her friends were taking the mick on us, Rea-Bradley didn't join in their laughter. In fact, I'm pretty sure she tried to stop them, but Malty wouldn't listen to her."

"So ... are you saying that Rea-Bradley's switching sides?" said Chris slowly.

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but look at the facts."

"Kiara's right," Sian said. "I mean, I know Rea-Bradley and Malty are cousins, but that doesn't necessarily mean that they have to agree on everything. People change all the time. Maybe she has."

"Well, I'm keeping an eye on her," said Chrissie suddenly.

"Chrissie - "

"Look, Sian, you, Chris and Kiara might trust that she has changed, but with Malty as her cousin, you never know what's going to happen."

"Look, Chrissie, we're not going to welcome her in with open arms - " ("I should hope not," muttered Chrissie) " - but we have to be open to the idea that Rea-Bradley could have changed sides."

I decided then that it was time to change the subject, so I said, "Who are the other Prefects, anyway?"

"Emily Mack, Harold Abbott and Oliver Bryce for Badger-Stripes," said Chris.

"And Anna Goldstein, Joseph Black and Perry Party for Raven-Wings," said Chrissie.

"I know you," said a vague voice. "You went to the Yule Ball with Ben Seville."

We all turned to look at Lincoln Lovedream, who gazed unblinkingly at Chrissie over the top of _The Mystics_.

"Yeah, I know I did," she said, looking mildly surprised.

"I would have gone with you if I had been invited, you know," Lincoln informed her. "I know that Ben doesn't like dancing either, so I would have been OK talking to you all night."

He retreated behind _The Mystics_ again. Chris and Chrissie both stared at the cover with their mouths hanging open for a few seconds, then they both turned to Beth, Kestrel and Merida for some kind of explanation, but they were covering their mouths with their hands, trying to stop the giggles. Chris and Chrissie shook their heads, bemused, and then Chrissie checked her watch.

"We're supposed to patrol the subs every so often," she told Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Nikita and I, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crate or Gabber for something ..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Chrissie!" said Sian sharply.

"Yeah, right, because Malty won't abuse it at all," Chrissie said sarcastically.

"So you're going to descend to her level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get her mates before she gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Chrissie - "

"Come on, Chrissie," said Chris, "you're better than that - "

"I'll make Gabber do lines, it'll kill her, she hates writing," said Chrissie happily. She lowered her voice to Gabber's low grunt and, screwing up her face in a look of pained concentration, mimed writing in midair: _"I ... must ... not ... look ... like ... a baboon's ... backside ..."_

We all laughed, but none of us laughed as hard as Lincoln Lovedream did. He let out a scream of mirth that caused Harold to wake up and flap his wings indignantly, and Lucifer to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. Lincoln laughed so hard that his magazine slipped out of his grasp, slid down his leg and on to the floor.

"That was _funny_!"

His prominent eyes swam with tears as he gasped for breath, staring at Chrissie. Utterly perplexed, she looked around at the rest of us, but we were laughing at the expression on Chrissie's face and at the incredulously prolonged laughter of Lincoln Lovedream, who rocked backwards and forwards, clutching his sides.

"Are you taking the mickey?" said Chrissie, frowning at him.

"Baboon's ...backside!" he choked out, clutching his ribs.

Everyone apart from me watched Lincoln laughing, as I glanced at the magazine on the floor, and I noticed something that made me dive for it. Upside-down it had been hard to tell what the picture on the front was, but I then realised that it was a fairly bad cartoon of Cornelia Sweets; I only recognised her because of her burgundy red witch's hat. One of Sweets' hands was clenched around a bag of gold, whilst the other hand throttled a faun. The cartoon was captioned: _How Far Will Sweets Go to Gain Fauntrotts?_

Beneath this were listed the titles of the other articles inside the magazine:

 _Corruption in the Quidditch League:_

 _How the Tornadoes are Once Again Taking Control_

 _Secrets of the Elements Revealed_

 _The Pride-Landers: Villains or Victims?_

Intrigued by the article about my mother, I turned to Lincoln and asked him eagerly, "Can I have a look at this?"

He nodded, still gazing at Chrissie, breathless with laughter.

I opened the magazine and scanned the index. I found the page, and turned excitedly to the article.

This, too, was illustrated by a rather bad cartoon; in fact, I would not have known that it was supposed to be my parents if it hadn't been captioned. My parents were both stood on a pile of human bones with their wands out. The headline on the article said:

 _THE PRIDE-LANDERS: ARE THEY AS DARK AS THEY ARE MADE OUT TO BE?_

 _Notorious mass murderers or innocent singing sensations?_ I had to read that first sentence several times before I was convinced that I had not misunderstood it. Yes my parents could sing, for I had heard them humming in time to a few songs, but since when had either of them been singing sensations?

 _For fourteen years, Nala Pride-Lander, and her husband, Simba Pride-Lander, have been believed to be guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and two wizards. The Pride-Lander's audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic since Sirius Black's escape. None of us have ever questioned that they deserve to be recaptured and handed back to the Stingers._

 _BUT DO THEY?_

 _Startling new evidence has recently come to light that Simba and Nala Pride-Lander may not have committed the crimes for which they were sent to Azkaban. In fact, says Norris Pores, of 10 Princess Street, Southport, the Pride-Landers may not have even been present at the killings._

 _"What people don't realise is that Simba and Nala Pride-Lander's names are false," said Mr Pores. "The woman people believe to be Nala Pride-Lander is actually Nadia Penny-Long, lead singer of The Moor Elves, who retired from public after being struck on the head after a few raw carrots at a concert that my wife and I went to see at the abandoned chocolate factory in Southport fifteen years ago. I recognised her and her husband - Stewie Penny-Long, not Simba Pride-Lander - the moment I saw their pictures in the paper. Now, Nadia and Stewie couldn't have possibly committed those crimes, because on the day in question they happened to be at dinner with my wife and I. I have written to the Minister for Magic and I am expecting her to give Nadia and Stewie, alias Nala and Simba, a full pardon any day now."_

I finished reading and stared at the page in disbelief. I thought that it was a joke, a spoof interview that the magazine printed in order to increase publicity. I flicked back a few pages and found the piece on Sweets, which read:

 _Cornelia Sweets, the Minister for Magic, denied that she had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Fauntrotts, when she was elected Minister for Magic five years ago. Sweets has always says that she wants nothing more than to "co-operate peacefully" with some of the guardians of our gold._

 _BUT DOES SHE?_

 _Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Sweets' dearest ambition is to seize control of both the goblin and faun gold supplies and that she will not hesitate to use force if need be._

 _"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelia "Faun-Crusher Goblin-Snatcher" Sweets, that's what her friends call her. If you could hear her when she thinks no one's listening, oh, she's always talking about the goblins and fauns she's had done in, she's had them drowned, she's had them dropped off buildings, she's had them poisoned, she's had them cooked in pies ..."_

I did not read any further. I knew that Sweets had many faults, but I found it very hard to imagine her ordering goblins and fauns to be cooked in pies. I then flicked through the rest of the magazine. I paused every few pages to read: an accusation that the Tutshill Tornadoes was winning the Quidditch league by a combination of blackmail, illegal broom-tampering and torture again; an interview with a witch who claimed to have flown to the moon on a Cleansweep Twenty and brought back a bag of moon toads to prove it; and an article on the elements which at least explained why Lincoln had been reading _The Mystics_ upside-down. According to the magazine, if you turned the elemental runes on their heads and use a stone for which element your birth lands in, which, when you threw it, whatever element it landed on you had to turn the magazine upside-down to see which spell you had to use with whatever element you got in order to defend yourself from enemies. Sounds complicated, I know. Anyhoo, compared to the rest of the articles in _The Mystics_ , the suggestion that my mother might really be the lead singer of The Moor Elves and that my father could be the husband of that lead singer was quite sensible.

"Anything good in there?" Chris asked me as I closed the magazine.

"Of course not," said Sian scathingly, before I could answer. " _The Mystics_ is rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Lincoln; his voice had suddenly lost its dreamy quality. "My mother's the editor."

Whoops.

"I - oh," said Sian, looking embarrassed. "Well, it's got some interesting ... I mean, it's quite ..."

"I'll have it back, thank you," said Lincoln coldly, and leaning forwards he snatched it out of my hands. Riffling through it to page fifty-seven, he turned it resolutely upside-down again and disappeared behind it, just as someone transported into our sub for the third time.

I turned around; I had expected it, but that did not mean that it made the sight of Dani Malty smirking at me from between her cronies Crate and Gabber any more enjoyable; although, I was quite surprised that Rea-Bradley wasn't with them, but then again, they weren't on speaking terms.

"What?" I said aggressively, before Malty got the chance to speak.

"Manners, Pride-Lander, or I'll have to give you a detention," drawled Malty, whose sleek blonde hair and pointed face were just like her mother's. "You see I, unlike you, have been made a Prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"That may be," I said, "but you, unlike me, are a worthless cow, so get out and leave us alone."

Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida and Nikita laughed. Malty's lip curled.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Dawson, Pride-Lander?" Malty asked, nodding at Chrissie.

"Shut up, Malty," said Sian sharply.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," said Malty, smirking. "Well, just watch yourself, Pride-Lander, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" said Sian, standing up.

Sniggering, Malty gave me a last malicious look and departed, with Crate and Gabber lumbering along in her wake. Sian slammed the compartment door behind them and turned to look at me along with Chris, Beth, Kestrel and Merida, and I knew that they, like myself, had registered what Malty had said, and they were just as unnerved by it as I was.

"Chuck us another Frog," said Chrissie, who had clearly noticed nothing. Sian looked disapprovingly at her.

I could not talk freely in front of Nikita and Lincoln. I exchanged another nervous look with Chris, Sian, Beth, Kestrel and Merida, before I leaned back in my seat, gazing unseeingly at my hands, thinking ...

I had originally thought that my parents coming to the Sub House was a bit of a laugh, but as I thought about it, it seemed reckless, if not dangerous in my mind ... Sian had been right ... my parents should not have come. Worrying thoughts and questions then started rushing through my mind. What if Mrs Malty had noticed the black dogs and told Dani and Keziah? What if she had deduced that the Dawsons, Meers, Pumbaa, Grandmother Sarabi, Todd and Grumpy knew where my parents were hiding? Or had Malty's use of the word "dogging" had been a coincidence?

The weather remained undecided as we travelled to Ireland. Even though we were underwater, I could tell that it was raining, for the water turned dark and was quite unsettled, then the rain stopped and the water became somewhat brighter, which meant that the sun must have made an appearance, before the water became dark once more. When the water became so dark that I could see the lights guiding us from the front of the sub just briefly from the window, I knew that night had truly fallen. It was then that Lincoln rolled up _The Mystics_ , put it carefully away in his bag and took to staring at all of us in the compartment instead.

I sat with my head resting on my seat, wishing I could catch a glimpse of Dragon Mort, when Sian said, "We'd better change," and we all opened our trunks and pulled on our school robes. Chris, Sian and Chrissie pinned their Prefect badges carefully to their chests. I saw Chrissie checking her reflection in the black window.

At last, the subs began to slow down and rose to the surface. We had to sit down until the sub stopped in order to get our belongings together, but once it stopped, we scrambled to get our luggage and pets assembled, ready to set off - well, most of us. As Chris, Sian and Chrissie were supposed to supervise all this, they disappeared from the sub, leaving myself and the others to look after Lucifer, Piggledon and Cattonia.

"I'll carry that owl for you, if you like," Lincoln said to me, reaching out for Piggledon, as Nikita stowed Tina carefully in an inside pocket, Kestrel grabbed Cattonia's cage and Merida picked up the wicker basket with Lucifer inside.

"Oh - er - thanks," I said, handing him the cage and therefore allowing me to hoist Harold more securely into my arms.

We shuffled towards the door of the sub, joined by the rest of the Dawsons as we went into the Sub Cave. We then walked up the stone steps and out into the fresh air, where we were greeted by the first sting of the night air on our faces as we joined the crowd, who were making a beeline for the stagecoaches to take us to Dragon Mort. I smelt the pine trees that lined the path down to the river. I stopped for a moment, looking towards the island where the first-years would be greeted by Mina, who would open a portal on the water that would take them to the school.

"Kiara, come on!" a voice called behind me. I turned around, and Merida was beckoning me to follow her, so I did, and we were jostled by the crowd, allowing me to be shunted forwards on to the dark rain-washed road, looking around for Chris, Sian and Chrissie as I did so.

There stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. I glanced quickly at them, turned away to keep a lookout for Chris, Sian and Chrissie, then I did a double-take, amazed by what I saw.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts. If I had to give them a name, I supposed I would have called them horses, even though they looked like creatures the Horsemen of the Apocalypse would ride, for there was something reptilian about them. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes were white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. I did not understand why the coaches were being pulled by those horrible-looking horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

"Where're Pig and Cat?" came Chrissie's voice from right behind me. I turned to face her, and saw that Chris was right beside her.

"That Lincoln boy's got Piggledon, and Kestrel's got Cattonia," I said, looking around to see where Sian was.

A short distance away, Dani Malty, followed by a small group of cronies including Crate, Gabber and Parry Parker, were pushing several second- and third-year students out of the way so that she and her friends could get a coach to themselves; a short way behind them, Rea-Bradley came up to every student her cousin and company had pushed, to see if they were all right. Seconds later, Sian emerged panting from the crowd.

"Malty was absolutely foul to a second-year back there. I swear I'm going to report her; she's only had her badge five minutes and she's using it to bully people worse than ever ... where's Lucifer?"

"Merida's got him," I said. "There she is ..."

Merida had just emerged from the crowd, carrying a squirming Lucifer.

"Thanks," said Sian, relieving Merida of her cat. "Come on, let's get a carriage together before they all fill up."

"I won't be joining you," said Merida. "There'll be too many of us in the carriage, anyway."

""We'll see you at the school, then, Merida," said Sian. Merida smiled at her before she turned and rushed off to find her friends.

As Sian headed off towards the nearest unoccupied coach, Chris called after her, "Hey, Chrissies and I haven't got our owls yet!", but Sian ignored him. I remained behind with him and Chrissie as we followed Sian.

"What are those things, d'you reckon?" I asked them, nodding at the horrible-looking horses as the other students surged past us.

"What things?"

"What're you talking about, Kiara?"

Those horse - "

Lincoln and Kestrel appeared then, holding Piggledon and Cattonia's cages in their arms; the tiny owls were twittering excitedly as usual.

"Here you are," said Lincoln, as he and Kestrel passed the owls over to Chris and Chrissie. "They're sweet little owls, aren't they?"

"Er ... yeah ... they're all right, I suppose," said Chris a little gruffly. "Well, come on, then, let's get in ... what were you telling us, Kiara?"

"I was saying, what are those horse things?" I said, as Chris, Chrissie, Kestrel, Lincoln and I made for the carriage where Sian was already sitting.

"What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" I said impatiently. We were, after all, about three feet from the nearest one; it was watching us with empty white eyes. Chris and Chrissie, however, both gave me a perplexed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Is something _supposed_ to be there?"

"What do you mean is something - I'm talking about - look!"

I grabbed one of Chris and Chrissie's arms and wheeled them about so that they were face to face with the winged horse. Chris and Chrissie stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at me.

"What are we meant to be looking at, Kiara?" Chris asked, he and Chrissie both looking confused.

"At the - there, between the shafts! Harnessed to the coach! It's right there in front of - "

But as Chris and Chrissie both continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to me.

"Can't ... can't you two see them?"

"See _what_?"

"Kiara, is this some kind of a joke?" said Chrissie impatiently. "Because if it is, it's not a very good one."

"So ... you both can't see what's pulling the carriages?"

Chris and Chrissie looked seriously alarmed now.

"Are you feeling all right, Kiara?"

"Yeah, this is so not like you."

"I ... yeah ... I'm fine ... I'm ..."

I remember feeling utterly bewildered. The horse was right there in front of me, gleaming solidly in the dim light issuing from the torches that were lit along the road which led to the school, vapour rising from its nostrils in the chilly night air. Yet, unless Chris and Chrissie were faking - and it was a very feeble joke if they were - Chris and Chrissie couldn't see them at all (of course, there was a reason as to why I could see them and they couldn't, which I found out later on that year).

"So ... shall we get in, then?" said Chris uncertainly, he and Chrissie looking at me as though they were worried that I had lost part of my sanity.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah, go on ..."

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice from beside me, as Chris and Chrissie vanished into the coach's dark interior. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them too."

"Can you?" I said desperately, turning to Lincoln. I saw the bat-winged horses reflected in his wide silvery eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Lincoln. "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am."

Smiling faintly, he climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Chris and Chrissie. Not altogether reassured by this, I followed him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 **The Sorting-Head's Warning**

 **KIARA**

I did not want to tell the others that Lincoln and I had the same hallucination - at least, that's what I thought it was at the time - so I said nothing more about the horses as I sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door behind me. Nevertheless, I could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.

"Hey, I don't know if it's true or not, but I heard someone say that Mina's not here," said Chris.

"What?" I said, confused and astounded by this information, for it didn't seem likely that Crighton would have let her go. "She hasn't left, has she?"

"I'll be quite glad if she has," said Lincoln, "for she isn't a very good teacher, is she?"

"Yes, she is!" Chris, Chrissie, Kestrel and I said angrily.

I glared at Sian. She cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm ... yes ... she's very good."

"Well, we in Raven-Wings thinks she's a bit of a joke," said Lincoln, unfazed.

"You've got a rubbish sense of humour, then," snapped Chrissie, as the wheels below us creaked into motion.

Lincoln did not seem perturbed by Chrissie's rudeness; on the contrary, he simply watched her for a while as though she was a mildly interesting television programme.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. As they did this, I wondered what was going on with Mina and why she wasn't at the school? Where was she, and why? Why did she leave, and for what purpose? When we passed between the tall stone pillars tapped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, I leaned forwards to try and see if I could make out any lights coming from Mina's cabin by the Black Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Dragon Mort castle, however, loomed ever closer; a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, whilst here and there a window would be blazing fiery above us.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and I got out of the carriage first. I turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Mina's cabin. Unwillingly, because I had half-hoped that they would have vanished, I turned my eyes upon the strange, skeletal creatures that stood quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming.

I had once before had the experience of seeing something that Chrissie could not, but they had been reflections from a mirror, something much more insubstantial than a hundred solid-looking beasts strong enough to pull a fleet of carriages - and besides, Chris hadn't been there last time. If Lincoln was to be believed (which he was), the beasts had always been there but invisible. Because I did not understand at the time, I couldn't help but wonder why I suddenly saw them and no one else couldn't.

"Are you coming or what?" said Chris beside me.

"Oh ... yeah," I said quickly, and we joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as myself and other students around me crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, which led to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky that we caught glimpses of through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students who were talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. It was then that I noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as I passed, and it didn't take me long to guess what they were talking about: what the _Daily Squabbler_ was saying about me, calling me a lying show off. I wondered if they believed it, which made me quite angry to think about, so I just gritted my teeth and tried to act as though I didn't care or notice.

Lincoln drifted away from us at the Raven-Wings table. The moment we reached the Lion-Heart table, Kestrel went to sit with Beth, Merida and their friends; Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were joined by Nikita again, and the five of us found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly-Headless Nicola, the Lion-Heart house ghost, and Perry Party and Larry Brown, the last two of whom gave me airy, overly-friendly greetings that made me quite sure that they had stopped talking about me a split second before. I had more important things to worry about, however; I looked over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall.

"She's not there."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie scanned the top table too, though there was no real need: Mina's size made her instantly obvious in any line-up.

"She can't have left," said Chrissie, sounding slightly anxious.

"Of course she hasn't," said Chris firmly.

"You don't think she's ... _hurt_ , or anything, do you?" said Sian.

"No," I said at once.

"But where is she, then?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then I said very quietly, so that Nikita, Perry and Larry couldn't hear me, "Maybe she's not back yet - you know - from her mission - the thing she was doing over the summer for Crighton.

"Yeah ... yeah, that'll be it," said Chrissie, sounding reassured, but Chris looked unsure, and Sian bit her lip as she looked up and down the staff table, as though she was hoping that she would find a conclusive explanation for Mina's absence.

"Who's _that_?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

My eyes followed hers, past the high-backed golden chair that was empty for the time being (for Crighton always showed up after the Sorting had taken place) to the man sitting on the right, who was gazing around the Hall, eyeing everyone carefully. My first thought was that he looked like someone's (rather small) uncle; squat, with short curly, mouse-brown hair, quite a strong chin and good, observant eyes. He wore lime green robes with a baby blue cardigan on top (I know, he has no sense with colour clashing). It was only when I saw his face turned slightly to take a sip from his goblet that I saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"It's that Umber man!"

"Who?" said Sian.

"He was at my hearing, he works for Sweets!"

"Nice cardigan," said Chris, smirking.

"Urgh, he's got horrible dress sense," said Chrissie, eyeing his clothes in disgust.

"He works for Sweets!" Sian repeated, frowning. "What on earth's he doing here, then?"

"Dunno ..."

Sian scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.

"No," she muttered, her eyes gaining an angry fire, "no, surely not ..."

I did not understand what she was talking about but I did not ask; my attention had been caught by Professor Smutty-Stave who had just appeared at the staff table; he worked his way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Mina's. That meant the first-years must have crossed the river and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor Darbus, who was carrying a stool, that the first-years sat upon to be Sorted.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the staff, as Professor Darbus placed the stool carefully in front of them, and then called for the Sorting-Heads: the Lion-Head, golden face, scarlet mane and eyes; the Raven-Head, blue feathers, bronze eyes and beak; the Badger-Head, black and yellow stripes; and the Snake-Head, that had green scales and silver eyes.

Instead of the Sorting Ceremony starting straightaway, the four Sorting-Heads turned to face us. There was a moment of silence before they all spoke in their own voices: the Lion, a low grumble, the Raven, in a croaky voice, the Badger, in a squeaky tone and the Snake in a low hiss. This is what they said.

 _"As we stand before you,_

 _About to Sort once more,_

 _We feel we have to ask,_

 _Will things be like they were before?_

 _Will houses still be divided,_

 _Or will new relationships stand true;_

 _Will we still remain the same,_

 _Or will a path spring up anew?_

 _We know our houses are different,_

 _Each special in their own way,_

 _And we ask you to put these differences aside,_

 _And join forces to begin a new day._

 _The time is now, the time is short,_

 _To stand together, side by side,_

 _To make a point, to make a stand,_

 _To take on evil with pride._

 _For if not now, when,_

 _If not us, who,_

 _It's time to join together,_

 _And be true to ourselves, through and through."_

The four heads then became motionless, bowed, and turned back to face Professor Darbus. I don't think any of us knew what to make of it, for I saw many students making remarks with their neighbours, and I knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Well, that was ... different," said Chris.

"And unexpected," Chrissie agreed.

"Nicola, have the Heads ever given warnings before?" Sian asked her, looking interested.

"Oh, yes. Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nicola knowledgably, leaning across Nikita towards her (Nikita winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Heads feel themselves honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels - "

But Professor Darbus, who had just asked for the list, which the Snake-Head gave her, gave the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly-Headless Nicola placed a see-through finger to her lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor Darbus lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Archwald, Emmeline."

A terrified-looking girl stumbled forwards to the stool. The Heads looked at her for a moment, before the Lion-Head leaned forwards.

"ROAR!"

I clapped loudly with the rest of my house as Emmeline Archwald staggered to our table and sat down, looking as though she wanted to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting-Heads's decisions, I heard Chrissie's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Ross" was Sorted into Badger-Stripes, and Professor Darbus picked up the stool, marched away with it, and then came back to announce Crighton to the school.

As usual, the Sorting-Heads spun around quickly in the middle of the Great Hall and Crighton appeared, wearing her usual silver ceremonial robes which she wore every start- and end-of-term feast.

"Welcome one - and all - to Dragon Mort Magical Academy!" said Crighton loudly to the room at large, welcoming everyone in.

We all clapped loudly as she walked to her chair, and none more loudly than I - and perhaps Sian - for whatever bitter feelings I had felt towards my Headmistress were at that moment gone, for I then felt somewhat soothed to see Crighton welcoming us all for the new year. Between the presence of the dragonish horses and Mina's absence, I had felt that my return to Dragon Mort, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at last, was how it was supposed to be: our Headmistress greeting us with arms held wide in welcome before our start-of-term feast.

"To our newcomers," said Crighton in a ringing voice once she was stood in front of her chair, her arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on her face, "welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Crighton sat down neatly and threw her long hair over her shoulders so as to keep it out of the way of her plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning over joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Chrissie, with a kind of groan of longing, and she seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to her plate, which was watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nicola.

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Sian asked the ghost. "About the Heads giving warnings?"

"Oh, yes," said Nicola, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Chrissie, and Chris too, who were both eating roast potatoes with impending enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Heads give several warnings before, always at times when they detect periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, their advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"Ow kunney nofe skusin danger ifzerreds?" said Chrissie.

Her mouth was so full I thought that it was quite an achievement for her to make any noise at all.

"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nicola politely, while Sian looked revolted and Chris bit back a laugh. Chrissie gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can they know if the school's in danger if they're Heads?"

"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nicola. "Of course, they live in a chest in Crighton's office so I daresay they pick things up there."

"And they want all the houses to be friends?" I said, looking over at the Snake-Eyes table where Dani Malty held court. "Fat chance."

"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nicola reprovingly. "Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Lion-Heart and Snake-Eyes, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baroness."

"Only because you're terrified of her," said Chrissie.

 _"Chrissie,"_ Sian hissed in a low, warning voice, as Nearly Headless Nicola looked highly affronted.

"Terrified? I hope I, Madam Nicola de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins - "

"What veins?" asked Chrissie. "Surely you haven't still got - ?"

"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nicola, so annoyed that her head trembled ominously on her partially severed neck, even as Sian hissed _"Chrissie!"_ again in a slightly louder tone, and Chris smacked his forehead, shook his head and gave a low moan. "I assume I am allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

"Nicola, she wasn't really laughing at you!" said Sian, throwing Chrissie a furious look.

Unfortunately, Chrissie's mouth was packed to exploding point again, and all she managed to say was "Node iddum eentup schew," which Nicola did not seem to think constituted as an adequate apology. Rising into the air, she straightened her feathered hat and swept away from us to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the McCreevey sisters, Colleen and Denise.

"Well done, Chrissie," snapped Sian.

"Smooth, sister. _Real_ smooth," said Chris, looking disapprovingly at Chrissie.

"What?" said Chrissie indignantly, having managed to swallow her food. "I'm not allowed to answer a simple question?"

"Oh, forget it," said Sian irritably, and she, Chris and Chrissie spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence.

I was too used to their bickering to bother trying reconcile them; I felt it a better use of my time to eat my way steadily through my steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of my favourite apple crumble.

When the eating was beginning to cool down and the chatter in the Hall was rising again, Crighton got to her feet. Talking ceased immediately as we all turned to face the Headmistress. I felt pleasantly drowsy by this point. I was thinking longingly of my four-poster bed waiting for me, wonderfully warm, somewhere above me ...

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Crighton. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to all students - and a few of our older students ought to know that, too." (Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I exchanged smirks.)

"Mr Match, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Match's office door.

"We have two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Smutty-Stave, who will be taking care of Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umber, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I exchanged slightly panicked looks; Crighton had not said for how long Smutty-Stave would be teaching.

Crighton continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the - "

She broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umber. As he was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Crighton had stopped talking, but then Professor Umber cleared his throat, _"Hem, hem,"_ and it became clear that he had gotten to his feet and intended to make a speech.

Crighton only looked taken aback for a moment, then she sat down smartly and looked intently at Professor Umber as though she desired nothing more than to listen to him talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise: Spud's eyebrows had disappeared almost into his hairline and Professor Darbus' mouth was the thinnest that I have ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Crighton before. Many of the students were smirking; this man certainly did not know how things were done at Dragon Mort.

"Thank you, Headmistress," Professor Umber simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

His voice was high-pitched, breathy and boyish and, again, I felt a powerful rush of dislike that I could not explain to myself; all I knew at that moment was that I loathed everything about him, from his stupid voice to his fluffy, baby blue cardigan. He gave another little throat-clearing cough ( _"hem, hem"_ ) and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Dragon Mort, I must say!" He smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

I looked around, and none of the faces I saw looked particularly happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old - not that I could blame them.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll all be very good friends!"

I saw students around me exchange looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be his friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Perry whispered to Larry, and both of them tried (unsuccessfully) to stifle their snorts of laughter.

Professor Umber cleared his throat again ( _"hem, hem"_ ), but, when he continued this time, some of the breathiness had vanished from his voice. He sounded much more banshee-like and now his words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by or ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umber paused here and made a little bow to his fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to him. Professor Darbus' dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and I distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Spud as Umber gave another little _"hem, hem"_ and went on with his speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Dragon Mort has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress' sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation ..."

I found my attentiveness ebbing, as though my brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Crighton spoke broke up as students around me put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over at the Raven-Wings table, Khan Chan was chatting animatedly with his friends. A few seats along from Khan, Lincoln Lovedream had got out _The Mystics_ again. Meanwhile, at the Badger-Stripes table, Emily Mac was one of the few still staring at Professor Umber, but she was glassy-eyed and I was sure she was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new Prefect's badge gleaming on her chest.

Professor Umber did not seem to notice the restlessness of his audience. I had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under his nose and he would have ploughed on with his speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Sian seemed to be drinking in every word Umber spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

" ... because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

He sat down. Crighton clapped. The staff followed her lead, though I noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Crighton stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umber, that was most illuminating," she said, bowing her head humbly to him. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held ..."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Sian in a low voice.

"You can't be telling us you _actually_ enjoyed that?" said Chris, he and Chrissie turning to Sian with glazed faces.

"Yeah, that was the dullest speech I've ever heard - and I always thought that Perdy's speeches were bad," said Chrissie, rolling her eyes.

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Sian. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" I said in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Sian grimly.

"Was there, 'cause I caught none of it," said Chris.

"How about: "progress for progress' sake must be discouraged"? How about: "pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited"?"

"Yeah, Sian, that's great and all, but, uh - what does it mean? And please try and make it so I can understand, and not use your highly extensive vocabulary for once, 'cause that'd be great," said Chrissie.

Sian huffed, looked thoroughly irritated and said, in a tone that equalled her expression, "Basically, it means that the Ministry's interfering at Dragon Mort. You happy now?" she said angrily to Chrissie.

Chrissie looked at Sian blankly for a few moments, before she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Meh, it'll do."

Sian kind of lost it then. She moved her head around in exasperation and placed her head in her hands, slowly shaking it. She then muttered, "I can't believe you're my sister." I'm not sure if Chrissie didn't hear her or if she turned a blind eye to what Sian said, but either way, she ignored it.

There was then a great clattering and banging all around us; Crighton had obviously dismissed the school, because everyone stood up, obviously ready to leave the Hall. Sian immediately jumped to her feet, looking flustered, with Chris following suit.

"Chrissie, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go, remember?" said Sian, looking imploringly at her sister.

"Oh yeah," said Chrissie, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"

 _"Chrissie!"_

"Well, they are, they're titchy ..."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets! First-years!" Sian called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

A group of new year students walked shyly up the gap between the Lion-Heart and Badger-Stripes tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed look very small; I'm sure that I did not look that young when I had first got there, but what do I know? I grinned at them. A girl next to Emmeline Archwald looked petrified; she nudged Emmeline and whispered something in her ear. Emmeline Archwald looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at me, and I felt the grin slide off my face like Stinksap.

"See you later," I said dully to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, and I made my way out of the Great Hall alone, doing everything I could to ignore more whispering, staring and pointing as I passed. I kept my eyes fixed ahead as I wove my way through the crowd in the Entrance Hall, then I hurried up the marble staircase, took a couple of concealed shortcuts, so that I had soon left most of the crowds behind.

How I didn't think to have expected this, I have no idea. I angrily thought that it was pretty stupid of me not to expect this, as I walked through the much emptier upstairs corridors. Of course everyone stared at me; I had, after all, emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously to this, clutching the dead body of a fellow student and claimed to have seen Lady Zira return to power, and even though everyone had seen Georgia Diggs' spirit speak, clearly that was not enough information to convince people that I wasn't lying.

I reached the end of the corridor to the Lion-Heart common room and I came to halt in front of portrait of the Fat Lord, before I realised that I did not know the password.

"Er ..." I said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lord, who smoothed the folds of his indigo blue robes and looked sternly back at me.

"No password, no entrance," he said loftily.

"Kiara, I know it!" someone panted behind me, and I turned and saw Nikita jogging towards me. "Guess what it is? I'm actually going to remember it for once - " She waved the stunted little cactus she had shown us on the sub. _"Mimbulus Mimbletonia!"_

"Correct," said the Fat Lord, and his portrait swung open towards us like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Nikita and I climbed.

The Lion-Heart common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cosy circular room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Tanya and Geri Fang were pinning something up on the noticeboard. I nodded to them before walking with Nikita to Dena and Zara, who had been talking as we approached them, but they stopped abruptly the moment I came within earshot. I couldn't help but wonder if they had been talking about me, before I questioned whether or not I was being paranoid.

"Hi," I said, stopping before them and smiling at them.

"Hey, Kiara," said Dena, smiling back at me. "Good holiday?"

"Not bad," I muttered, as a true account of that summer would have taken most of the night and I had neither the heart, nor the energy, to retell it. "You?"

"Yeah, it was OK," chuckled Dena. "Better than Zara's, anyway; she was just telling me."

"Why, what happened, Zara?" Nikita asked.

Zara did not answer immediately; she was staring at the fire, her fingers drumming on the table. Then she said, with her back still turned to me, "Me dad didn't want me to come back this year."

"What?" I said, looking at her in shock. Zara just kept on staring into the fire, still drumming her fingers on the table.

"He didn't want me to come back to Dragon Mort," she said, still not looking at me.

"But - why?" I said, astonished. I knew that Zara's father was a wizard, so what I couldn't understand was why he wanted to keep his daughter from going back.

Zara chose not to answer for a few moments, but only did when she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Well," she said in a measured voice, "I suppose ... it's because of you."

"What d'you mean?" I said quickly.

My heart beat rather fast. I remember feeling vaguely as though something was closing in on me.

"Well," said Zara again, still avoiding my eye, "he ... um ... well, it's not just you, it's Crighton, too ..."

"He believes the _Daily Squabbler_?" I said. "He thinks that I'm a liar and Crighton's an old fool?"

It was then that Zara chose to finally look at me.

"Yeah, something like that."

I said nothing. I chose instead to start pacing furiously behind Zara's chair. I was so sick of it; sick of being the person who is stared at and talked about all the time. If any of them knew, if any of them had the faintest idea of what it felt like to be the one all these things happened to ... Mr Finn had no idea, the stupid man, I thought savagely (sorry, Zara, but I was really angry).

As I paced, Zara turned to me and said, "Look ... I know we all saw Georgia' Diggs' spirit ... but ... well ... what _did_ happen that night when ... you know, when ... with Georgia Diggs and all?"

Zara sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dena then chose to look at me, too, along with those who had just entered the common room, but I ignored them all and kept my eyes focused on Zara.

Under different circumstances, I would have apologised and said that I didn't want to talk about it at that moment, because I wasn't ready - but, with Zara making her choice as to what she believed, I came up with this retort: "What are you asking me for? Just read the _Daily Squabbler_ like your stupid father, why don't you? That'll tell you all you need to know."

"Don't you dare have a go at my father," Zara snapped.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar," I said.

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"I'll talk to you how I want," I said, my temper rising so fast that I was itching for my wand. "If you've got a problem being in the same house as me, go and asked Darbus if you can be moved ... stop your daddy worrying - "

"Leave my father out of this, Pride-Lander!"

"What's going on?"

Chrissie, closely followed by Chris, had just stepped in through the portrait hole. Their eyes, along with many other curious ones, travelled from myself, with my right hand inching towards my wand, and Zara, who had stood up, glaring fiercely at me.

The portrait hole opened once more, this time revealing Sian with a bunch of first-year students. Once they had stepped over the threshold and stopped near enough in front of the fire, Sian raised her head and was taken aback by what she saw. Her eyes took in everything, from Chris and Chrissie's expressions, to the eyes of the other Lion-Hearts watching Zara and I, and then on to Zara and I and how we were stood. After quickly assessing the situation, she turned round to face the curious-looking first-years and said, "So, this is the Lion-Heart common room. You will spend a majority of your free time here, as well as the courtyards, but please remember that the Forest is forbidden. The dormitories are as follows: girls, up the stairs, enter through the door on your left, go down the staircase to the very bottom door and enter it, and boys, it's the same on your right. You'll find all your belongings have been brought up already. So, that concludes our tour and, seeing as it's your first day tomorrow, you all need a good night's sleep. Off you go."

The first-years didn't move at first, for they were looking curiously at what was going on between Zara and I. It was only after Sian gave them a very firm _"Now,"_ that they decided to move. Once they were gone, Sian turned to face us and said, "So, what's this all about?"

"She was having a go at my father, that's what's going on!" Zara yelled.

"What?" said Chrissie. "Kiara wouldn't do that - we met your father, we liked him ..."

"That's before he started believing every word the _Daily Squabbler_ writes about me and your mother, Chrissie!" I said at the top of my voice.

"Oh," said Chrissie, comprehension dawning across her, Chris and Sian's faces, which then turned to darker, angrier looks. "Oh ... right."

"You know what?" said Zara heatedly, casting me a venomous look. "She's right, I don't want to share a house with her any more, she's mental."

"That's out of order, Zara," said Chris, coming immediately to my defence.

"Out of order, am I?" shouted Zara, who went pale, in contrast to Sian's burning face. "You believe all the rubbish she's coming out with about She-You-Know, do you? You reckon she and Crighton are telling the truth?"

"Of course we do!" said Sian angrily.

"Then you're all mad, too," said Zara in disgust. "You and your mother - "

There was a sharp intake of breath at this by Sian, her face equalling the anger I saw on her when Triphorm insulted her in our third year. Chris, Chrissie, myself and everyone else in the room watched in apprehension as Sian slowly stepped towards Zara, speaking in a low, dangerous voice that picked up in volume as she spoke.

"Let me make this perfectly clear to you now, Zara ... if you think ... for one second ... that I am going to stand by and watch you insult my mother ... my _family_ like that ... then you are very much mistaken ... for I will do whatever it takes to defend them from people like you, no matter what it takes ... so I highly suggest that you BACK OFF!"

Sian said this with such ferocity that not only did Zara back away in fright, but many people jumped, and were very much afraid by the power that Sian portrayed. She then turned and addressed the room at large.

"Listen now, all of you, for I'll make this as simple as I can: if you believe Kiara, talk to us and we'll talk to you; if you don't, then don't bother approaching us, and keep on believing your own stupid beliefs. Remember that!" Sian then put her arm around me and led me towards the dormitories. Before we went up though, Sian turned her head slowly to look back at the crowd, who all immediately flinched and looked away from her. Seemingly satisfied, Sian and I, closely followed by Chris and Chrissie, headed up the stairs to the dormitories.

Sian, Chrissie and I said goodnight to Chris before we parted for the night. Halfway up the stairs to our dormitory, we heard a voice call, "Kiara! Hey, Kiara!" We turned back and saw Nikita, carrying her _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , come panting toward us.

"What is it, Nikita?" said Sian calmly.

"I just want to say that my granddad thinks the _Daily Squabbler_ 's rubbish and that it's going downhill, not Crighton. He's cancelled our subscription. We believe you, Kiara," she said simply. "My granddad's always said She-You-Know would come back one day. He says if Crighton says she's back, then she's back."

I felt a rush of gratitude towards Nikita, so much so that I hugged her, expressing all my gratitude for her friendship and support through it. Nikita was stunned for a moment, but she quickly hugged me back. We soon said goodnight to her, as she went down to the fifth-year dormitory, and Sian, Chrissie and I continued on to the Dawsons' dormitory.

Beth, Kestrel and Merida soon joined us there, and none of us said anything as we got ready for bed. I remember lying back on my pillows for a while when I got into bed that night. Despite Sian's rather fierce support, I felt shaken by the argument with Zara, whom I had always liked very much. I wondered how many people thought that I was a liar or whether or not I was unhinged.

My thoughts then turned to Crighton, and I pondered whether she had suffered like I had all that summer, at first the Wizengamot, and then the International Confederation of Wizards threw her from their ranks. I couldn't help but think if Crighton was angry at me, which therefore stopped Crighton from getting in touch with me for months. The two of us were in this together (along with Chris, Sian and Chrissie to an extent, seeing as they've been with me from the very start, and how they are Crighton's children - along with the rest of her children); after all, Crighton had believed me, announced my version of events to the whole school and then to the wider wizarding community. Anyone who thought that I was a liar had to think that Crighton was too, or else that Crighton had been hoodwinked ...

They'll know right in the end, I thought miserably, as Sian got into bed and extinguished the last candle in the dormitory. But I wondered how many more attacks like Zara's I would have to endure before the time came.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **The Start of The Worst Day Back**

 **KIARA**

When I got up and dressed the next morning and went down to the Lion-Heart common room, I noticed Zara talking to Dena by the noticeboard, but as soon as she saw me she made a dash for the portrait hole. Dena looked at me, gave me an apologetic shrug and went straight after her.

"Don't worry about it, Kiara," said Chrissie from behind me. "You have friends who stand beside you and believe in you. Zara'll come around soon enough - then again, we - "

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

Sian's rather loud, annoyed, commanding voice made Chrissie and I jump and turn around; she didn't look at us, but instead she marched straight for the noticeboard with Chris behind her, where a new sign had been put up.

 _GALLONS OF GALLEONS!_

 _Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?_

 _Like to earn a little extra cash?_

 _Contact Tanya and Geri Fang, Lion-Heart common room,_

 _for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs._

 _(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)_

"They are the limit," said Sian grimly, taking down the sign which Tanya and Geri had pinned over a poster which gave the date of the first Dragsmede weekend, which was in October. "Chris, Chrissie, we have to talk to them."

Chrissie looked positively alarmed by this notion, but Chris understood.

"Why do we need to do that?"

"Because we're Prefects, Chrissie," said Chris, as we climbed out through the portrait hole. "It's kind of implied in the job description that we're the ones who have to stop this kind of thing."

"Precisely! Thank you, Rickers!" was all Sian said.

Chrissie said nothing; I could tell from Chrissie's glum expression that the prospect of stopping Tanya and Geri from doing what they liked was not one she found inviting.

"Anyway, are you all right, Kiara?" Chris asked, concerned, as we walked down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of witches and wizards, all of whom ignored us, consumed in their own conversations. "You know, after what happened last night?"

I sighed and said, "Well, I'm not happy about it ... but it's to be expected."

Chris sighed and nodded sympathetically at me.

"Well, you're right about that, I'm afraid. I overheard Larry talking to Perry this morning, and he thinks the same way Zara does."

I should have acted calmly and rationally about this, but instead I said, "So, I take it the three of you had a nice little chat about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?"

"No," Chris said calmly. "I told him to keep his big fat mouth shut about things he doesn't understand, and that if he ever insulted you like that again, that I would punch him in the face."

 _"Rickers!"_ said Sian, shocked. Chrissie just laughed.

"You did that ... for me?" I asked, surprised, for not only was I shocked that he would stand up for me like that, but also that he would be willing to go so far as physical violence to protect me.

"Of course I would, Kiara," said Chris, looking at me with concern and ... something else shining in his eyes. "And putting that aside for a moment, it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Kiara, because in case you haven't noticed, Sian, Chrissie and I are on your side."

There was a short pause.

"Sorry," I said, in a quiet voice.

"That's quite all right," said Chris with dignity.

Sian then shook her head. "Don't you remember what Ma said at the last end-of-term feast?"

Chris, Chrissie and I looked blankly at Sian and she sighed.

"About She-You-Know. Ma said her "gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust - " "

"How on earth do you remember stuff like that?" asked Chrissie, looking at her sister in admiration.

"I listen, Chrissie," said Sian, with a touch of asperity.

"So do I, but I still couldn't tell you exactly what - "

"The point," Sian pressed on loudly, "is that this sort of thing is exactly what Ma was talking about. She-You-Know's already been back two months and we've already started fighting among ourselves. And the Sorting-Heads' warning was the same: stand together, be united - "

"And Kiara got it right last night," retorted Chrissie. "If that means we're supposed to be friends with the Snake-Eyes - _fat chance_."

"Well, I think it's a pity we're not trying for a bit of inter-house unity," said Sian crossly. "I mean, look at Keziah - "

"Keziah's only one Snake-Eyes student, Sian," Chris argued.

We had reached the foot of the marble staircase. A line of fourth-year Raven-Wings were crossing the Entrance Hall; they caught sight of me and hurried to form a tighter group, as though frightened that I could have attacked them.

"Yeah, we really ought to be making friends with people like that," I said sarcastically.

We followed the Raven-Wings into the Great Hall, all of us looking instinctively at the staff table as we entered. Professor Smutty-Stave chatted to Professor Comet, the Astronomy teacher, and Mina was once again conspicuous only by her absence. The enchanted ceiling above us echoed my mood that day: miserable, rain-cloud grey. Brilliant.

"Crighton didn't say how long that Smutty-Stave man's staying," I said, as we made our way across to the Lion-Heart table.

"Maybe ..." said Sian thoughtfully.

"What?" said Chris, Chrissie and I together.

"Well ... maybe she didn't want to draw attention to Mina not being here."

"What d'you mean, not draw attention to it?" said Chrissie, half-laughing. "How could we not notice?"

Before Sian could answer, a tall black boy with dreadlocks marched up to me.

"Hi, Andrew," I said.

"Hi," he said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Lion-Heart Quidditch Captain."

"Nice one," I said, grinning at him; I suspected Andrew's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Olivia Cane's had been, which could only be an improvement.

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now that Olivia's left. Tryouts are Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in."

"OK," I said.

Andrew smiled at me and departed.

"I'd forgotten Cane had left," said Sian vaguely as she sat down beside me and pulled a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," I said, as Chris and Chrissie both took the opposite bench. "She was a good Keeper ..."

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Chrissie.

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls soared into the Hall through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Harold was nowhere to be seen, but I was only surprised; my only correspondents were my parents and Grandmother Sarabi, and I doubted whether any of them would have anything new to tell me after only twenty-four hours apart. Sian, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden _Daily Squabbler_ in its beak.

"What are you still getting that for?" I said irritably, thinking of Zara as Sian placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm not bothering ... load of rubbish."

"It's best to keep track of the enemy's movements," said Sian darkly, as she unfurled the newspaper, opened it up and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Chris, Chrissie and I had finished eating.

"Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you or Ma or anything."

Professor Darbus was moving along the table by that point, handing out timetables.

"Look at today!" groaned Chrissie. History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Yawn, Triphorm, Crystals and that Umber man all in one day! Wish Tanya and Geri's hurry up and get those Gross Body Boxes sorted ..."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Tanya, arriving with Geri and squeezing on to the bench beside me. "Dragon Mort Prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons!"

"Look what we've got today," said Chrissie grumpily, shoving her timetable under Tanya's nose. "That's the worst Tuesday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, cous," said Tanya, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Bloody Nose Bonbon cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" said Chris suspiciously.

"Because you'll keep bleeding 'til you shrivel up and we haven't got an antidote yet," said Geri, helping herself to a kipper.

"Thanks," said Chrissie moodily, pocketing her timetable, "but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Gross Body Boxes," said Sian, eyeing Tanya and Geri beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Lion-Heart noticeboard."

"Says who?" said Geri, looking astonished.

"Says I," said Chris, "along with Sian ... and Chrissie."

"Please leave me out of this," said Chrissie desperately.

Sian glared at her, and Chris just shook his head, huffing. Tanya and Geri sniggered.

"Chris, Sian, you two'll be singing a different tune soon enough," said Tanya, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Body box before long."

"And why would us starting our fifth year mean that my brother and I want a Gross Body Box?" said Sian.

"Fifth year's OWL year," said Geri.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Tanya with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," said Geri happily. "Tears and tantrums ... Patrick Stumps kept coming over faint ..."

"Keira Tenneth came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Tanya reminiscently.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in her pyjamas," said Geri.

"Oh yeah," said Tanya, grinning. "I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said Geri. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Tanya and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."

"Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" said Chrissie.

"Yep," said Tanya unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously doubted whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said Geri brightly, "now that we've got - "

She broke off at a warning look from me, for I knew that Geri was about to mention the Triwizard winnings I had given them.

" - now that we've got our OWLs," Geri said hastily. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Sarabi or Uncle Matt could take us leaving school early; not on top of Perdy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Tanya, looking affectionately around in the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Dragon Mort student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of the research, then produce products to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Sian asked sceptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials - and premises too, I suppose ..."

I did not look at the twins. My face felt hot; so I deliberately dropped my fork and dived down to retrieve it. I heard Tanya (fortunately) say overhead, "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Sian. C'mon, Geri, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Electronic Ears before Herbology."

I emerged from under the table to see Tanya and Geri walking away, each carrying a stack of toast.

"I wonder what that's supposed to mean," said Chris, looking from Sian, to Chrissie, and then to me. " "Ask us no questions ..." Does that mean they've already got the gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Chrissie, her brow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer, and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons ..."

"I couldn't, either," said Sian, puzzled. "I mean, I'm smart, but even I can't work out how they did that; for Tanya and Geri are many things, but they are not thieves."

I decided it was time to steer the conversation out of these dark waters.

"D'you reckon this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?"

"Oh, yeah," said Chrissie. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, they affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Sam told us. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Dragon Mort?" I asked the other three, as we left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and proceeded towards the History of Magic classroom.

"Not really," said Chrissie slowly. "Except ... well ..."

She looked slightly sheepish.

"What is it?" Chris urged her.

"Well, it'd be pretty cool to be an Auror," said Chrissie in an off-hand voice.

"Mmm," said Chris, nodding.

"Yeah, it would," I said fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite," said Chrissie. "You've got to be really good. What about you, Sian?"

"I don't know," she said. "I think I'd like to do something worthwhile."

"An Auror's worthwhile!" I said.

"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," said Sian thoughtfully. "I mean, I could take HAME further ..."

Chris, Chrissie and I carefully avoided each other's eyes.

" ... but, then again, I would like to be a teacher, like Ma. I'm not too sure about the subject that I'd like to teach, but I certainly would like to follow in my mother's footsteps ..."

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Yawn, our ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. She never varied from the form of our lessons, but lectured us without pausing while we took notes, or rather gazed sleepily into space while Sian took notes. Chris, Chrissie and I had so far managed to scrape passes in that subject, but that was only due to Sian, who had enough mental strength to stay awake and endure Yawn's voice.

I vaguely remember that, on that particular day, we suffered an hour and a half's droning on the subject of giant wars. I heard just enough within the first ten minutes to appreciate dimly that in another teacher's hands that that subject might have been mildly interesting, but then my brain decided to go to sleep for a bit, and I spent the remaining hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of my parchment with Chris and Chrissie, as Sian kept on shooting us filthy looks out of the corner of her eye.

"How would it be," she asked us coldly as we left the classroom for break (Yawn drifted away through the blackboard), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our OWL this year," said Chrissie simply. "If you want that on your conscience, Sian, to see your brother and sister fail ..."

"Well, I wouldn't be happy about it, but to be frank, you'd deserve it," she snapped. "And with the way your mind works, sister, it wouldn't kill you to put some knowledge into that fluffed-up head of yours, now, would it? I mean, do you even bother to listen at all?"

"We do try, Sian," said Chris. "We just don't have your brains, your memory or your concentration - you're just far more cleverer than we are - is it nice to rub it in?"

"Oh, don't you give me that rubbish," said Sian, but I saw a slight gleam of pride come into her eyes, as she led us out into the damp courtyard.

A fine misty drizzle fell, so that the people standing in huddles around the edge of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of our over-robes against the chilly September air, talking about what Triphorm was likely to set us for the first lesson of the year. We had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch us off-guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards us.

"Hello, Kiara!"

It was Khan Chan and, what was more, he was on his own again. This was most unusual: Khan was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; I remembered the agony of trying to get him by himself to ask him to the Yule Ball. As he approached us, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Chris looked both unhappy and angry at Khan's appearance, and looked like he wanted nothing more than to punch him.

"Hi," I said, as I felt my face grow hot. _At least you're not covered in Stinksap this time_ , I told myself. Khan seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"So, you got that stuff off, then?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to grin as though the memory of our meeting on the sub was funny as opposed to mortifying. "So, Khan ..." I said slowly, trying to figure out how to word my question delicately, for Georgia Diggs had been Khan's girlfriend, "how was your summer?"

As soon as I asked this, my stomach clenched painfully, for something seemed to tauten his face, but he said glumly, "Oh, it was OK, you know ... it was kind of hard, but ... I pushed through." He chuckled weakly, but the light of his laugh didn't reach his eyes.

"Is that a Tornados badge?" Chrissie demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Khan's robes, where a sky blue badge emblazoned with a double gold "T" was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Khan.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Chrissie, in what I considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone; out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sian glaring, silently fuming, at Chrissie.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Khan coolly. "Anyway ... I'll see you, Kiara."

He walked away. Chris glared at his back, while Sian waited until Khan was halfway across the courtyard before she whacked Chrissie on the back of her head and rounded on her.

"Ow! What the hell, Sian?"

"You are _so_ tactless, Chrissie!"

"What? I only asked him if - "

"Couldn't you tell he wanted to talk to Kiara on his own?"

"So what? He could've done, I wasn't stopping - "

"Why on earth were you attacking him about his Quidditch team?"

"Attacking? I wasn't attacking him, I was only - "

"Uh, who _cares_ if he supports the Tornados or not?"

"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season - "

"But what does it _matter_?"

"It means they're not real fans, they're just jumping on the band-wagon - "

"That's the bell," I said dully, because Sian and Chrissie were bickering too loudly to hear it, and Chris looked too angry to say anything. Sian and Chrissie did not stop arguing all the way down to Triphorm's dungeon, which gave me plenty of time to reflect that between Nikita and Chrissie, I would've been lucky to ever have just two minutes of conversation with Khan that I could look back on without wanting to leave the country - at least, that's what I thought at the time (oh, and just so you know, Chris did not speak again until lunch).

And yet, I thought, as we joined the queue lining up outside Triphorm's classroom door, he had chosen to come and talk to me, did he not? He had been Georgia's boyfriend; he could have easily hated me for coming out of the Triwizard maze alive when Georgia had died, yet he talked to me in a perfectly friendly way, not as though he thought me mad, or a liar, or in some way responsible for Georgia's death ... yes, he had definitely chosen to come and talk to me, and that made the second time in two days ... and at that thought, my spirits rose. But then I thought back to what Georgia's spirit said to Khan, promising him to look after me in a way ... and as soon as my spirits rose, they sank again ... for I couldn't help but wonder if Khan was genuine in his intentions, or if he was following on the last words his girlfriend ever said to him. The small bubble of hope that had begun to rise within me was popped as I followed Chris, Sian and Chrissie into Triphorm's dungeon after the door had creaked open, and I followed my friends to our usual table at the back, where I sat between Sian and Chrissie, ignoring the huffy, irritable noises that were issuing from both Sian and Chrissie, and a furious, angry silence from Chris.

"Settle down," said Triphorm coldly, shutting the door behind her.

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment we all in the class heard the door closed, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting had stopped. Triphorm's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class' silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Triphorm, who swept over to her desk and stared around at all of us, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove just how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of you in this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL, or suffer my ... displeasure."

Her gaze lingered this time on Nikita, who gulped.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Triphorm went on. "I take only the very best NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

Her eyes rested on me and her lip curled. I glared back, feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that I would've been able to give up Potions after fifth year (or so I thought).

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Triphorm softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On my left, Sian sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. "The ingredients and method - " Triphorm flicked her wand " - are on the blackboard - " (they appeared there) "you will find everything you need - " she flicked her wand again " - in the store cupboard - " (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) " - you have an hour and a half ... start."

Just as Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had predicted, Triphorm could hardly have set us a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Triphorm, with ten minutes left to go.

I was sweating profusely by this point as I looked desperately around the dungeon. My own cauldron issued copious amounts of dark grey steam; Chrissie's spitted green sparks. Chris' potion issued a light grey mist. Zara was feverishly prodding the flames at the bottom of her cauldron with the tip of her wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Sian's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Triphorm swept by she looked down her hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that she found nothing to criticise. At my cauldron, however, Triphorm stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible expression on her face.

"Pride-Lander, what is this supposed to be?"

All the Snake-Eyes students - apart from Rea-Bradley - at the front of the class looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Triphorm taunt me.

"The Draught of Peace," I said tensely.

"Tell me, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm softly, "can you read?"

Dani Malty laughed; her cousin remained silent.

"Yes, I can," I said, as my fingers clenched tightly around my wand.

"Read the third line of instructions for me, Pride-Lander."

I squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multi-coloured steam which filled the dungeon.

" "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellbore." "

My heart sank. I had forgotten to add the syrup of hellbore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing my potion to simmer for seven minutes.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Pride-Lander?"

"No," I sighed, very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," I said loudly. "I forgot the hellbore."

"I know you did, Pride-Lander, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco._ "

The contents of my potion vanished; I was then left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron.

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," Triphorm said. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Friday."

As everyone around me filled their flagons, I cleared away my things, seething. My potion had been no worse than Chrissie's, which gave off a foul odour of bad eggs; or Nikita's, which achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Nikita had to gouge out of her cauldron; yet it was still me, and me alone, who had received zero marks for the day's work. I stuffed my wand back into my bag and slumped down on to my seat, watching everyone else walking up to Triphorm's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, I was first out of the dungeon and had already started on lunch by the time Chris (who looked far more cheerful than he had when we arrived outside Triphorm's dungeon), Sian and Chrissie joined me in the Great Hall. The ceiling had turned an even murkier grey during the morning. Rain lashed against the high windows.

"That was really unfair," said Sian consolingly, sitting down next to me and helping herself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Gabber's; when she put it in her flagon, the whole thing exploded and set her robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," I said, as I glowered at my plate, "since when has Triphorm ever been fair to me?"

None of them answered; they knew that mine and Triphorm's mutual enmity had been absolute from the moment I set foot in Dragon Mort.

"I did think she might be a bit better this year," said Sian in a disappointed voice. "I mean ... you know ..." she looked around carefully; there were half a dozen empty seats on either side of us and nobody passed the table, " ... now she's in the Order and everything."

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Chrissie sagely. "Anyway - and I've got nothing again Ma, S.D. - I've always thought that Ma was cracked to trust Triphorm. I mean, where's the evidence she never really stopped working for She-You-Know?"

"I think Ma's probably got plenty of evidence, even if she doesn't share it with us, Chrissie," snapped Sian. "I mean, look at Keziah for a second. I know we've only seen a brief glimpse of her over the past couple of days, but we can't deny that she could be changing - "

"That may be, Sian," Chris interrupted, "but don't forget that she's _Malty's cousin_. She shares a dormitory _with Malty_. Just because she could be changing now doesn't mean that she couldn't change back."

"I know that, Chris," said Sian, "but that does not mean that I don't believe in people. Besides, just because she's in Snake-Eyes, doesn't mean that she's going to turn out evil."

Chris and Chrissie scoffed in disbelief at this.

"What?"

"Come off it!"

"You don't believe me?" said Sian, looking at the pair of them firmly. "OK then. Well, remember your cat and rat, yeah? D'you remember how they turned out? D'you know what houses they were in? Let's think for a moment, shall we: were they in Snake-Eyes? No. They were both LION-HEARTS!"

I had had enough of their arguing by this point, so I stood up and said heavily, "Oh, shut up, the three of you." Chris, Sian and Chrissie froze, the three of them looking angry and offended. "Can't you just give it a rest for once?" I said. "You three are always having a go at each other, and it's driving me mad." And so I abandoned my shepherd's pie, swung my bag back over my shoulder and I left them sitting there.

I walked up the marble staircase two steps at a time, past many students who were hurrying towards lunch. The anger that had just flared so unexpectedly still blazed inside of me, and the vision of Chris, Sian and Chrissie's shocked faces afforded me a deep sense of satisfaction. _Serves them right_ , I thought, _why can't they give it a rest ... bickering all the time ... it's enough to drive anyone mad ..._

I passed the large picture of Knightress the knight on a laning; Knightress drew her sword and brandished it fiercely at me, but I just ignored her.

"Come back, you scurvy dog! Stand fast and fight!" Knightress yelled in a muffled voice from behind her visor, but I merely walked on and when Knightress attempted to follow me by running into a neighbouring picture, she was rebuffed by its inhabitant, which was a large and angry-looking wolfhound.

I spent the rest of the lunch hour sitting alone underneath the trapdoor at the top of North Tower. Consequently, I was the first to ascend the silver ladder that led to Cyril Crystals' classroom when the bell rang.

After Potions, Divination was my least favourite class, which was due mainly to Professor Crystals' habit of predicting my premature death every few lessons. A thin man, draped in scarves and glittering with strings of beads, he always reminded me of some kind of insect, with his glasses hugely magnifying his eyes. He was busy putting copies of battered leather-bound books on each of the spindly little tables with which his room was littered when I entered the room, but the light cast by the lamps covered by scarves, and the low-burning, sickly-scented fire was so dim that he appeared not to notice me as I took a seat in the shadows. The rest of the class arrived over the next five minutes. Chrissie emerged through the trapdoor, looked around carefully, spotted me and made directly for me, or as directly as she could while having to wend her way between tables, chairs and over-stuffed pouffes.

"Chris, Sian and I have stopped arguing," she said, sitting down beside me.

"Good," I said huffily.

"But Chris and Sian have both said that they think it would be nice if you stopped taking your temper out on us," said Chrissie.

"I'm not - "

"I'm just passing on the message," said Chrissie, talking over me. "But I reckon they're right. It's not our fault how Triphorm and Zara treat you. Besides, we're siblings, Kiara; we consider arguing to be one of our jobs."

"I never said it - "

"Good day," said Professor Crystals in his usual misty, dreamy voice that made me break off, making me feel both annoyed and slightly ashamed of myself. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and I'm delighted to see that you have returned to Dragon Mort - as, of course, I knew you would.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of _The Dream Oracle_ , by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmistress likes you to sit the examination, so ..."

His voice trailed away delicately, leaving us all in no doubt that Professor Crystals considered his subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use _The Dream Oracle_ to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

The one good thing that could be said for that lesson was that it was not a double period. By the time we all finished reading the introduction of the book, we had barely ten minutes left for dream interpretation. At the table next to mine and Chrissie's, Dena had paired up with Nikita, who immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a pair of giant scissors wearing her grandfather's best hat; Chrissie and I merely looked at each other glumly.

"I never remember my dreams," said Chrissie, "you say one."

"You must remember one of them," I said impatiently.

This is the first time I have shared these dreams with anyone, for I didn't want anyone to know back then. I knew perfectly well what my regular nightmare about a graveyard meant, I _so_ did not need Chrissie, Professor Crystals or the stupid _Dream Oracle_ to tell me that much.

"Well, I dreamed I was playing Quidditch the other night," said Chrissie, screwing up her face in an effort to remember. "What d'you reckon that means?"

"I dunno, probably that you're going to be a great Quidditch player someday," I said, as I turned the pages of _The Dream Oracle_ without interest. It as very dull work looking up bits of dreams in the _Oracle_ , and I did not cheer up when Professor Crystals set us the task of keeping a dream diary for a month as homework. When the bell went, Chrissie and I led the way back down the ladder, Chrissie grumbling loudly.

"D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Yawn set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Triphorm wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Crystals! Tanya and Geri weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umber man had better not give us any ..."

But if homework was the only thing that we would have to worry about where Umber was concerned ...

 **AN: The chapter concerning Umber's first class will be done tomorrow.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **Professor Umber**

 **KIARA**

So, when we entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, we found Professor Umber already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the same fluffy baby-blue cardigan of the night before and a small black fez on top of his head. I was reminded forcibly of a large fly perched on top of an even larger head.

My classmates and I were quiet as we entered the room; Professor Umber was, as yet, an unknown quantity and none of us knew how strict of a disciplinarian he was likely to be. But we were going to find out very soon just how bad this guy could be ...

"Well, good afternoon," he said, when we had all finally sat down.

A few of us mumbled "good afternoon" in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umber. " _That_ won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umber". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umber," we chanted back at him.

"There, now," said Professor Umber sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of us exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never before this point been followed by a lesson we had found interesting. I shoved my wand back inside my bag and pulled out a quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umber opened his satchel, extracted his own wand - which has to be one of the shortest wands I have ever seen in my entire life so far - and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

 _Defence Against the Dark Arts_

 _A Return to Basic Principles_

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" said Professor Umber, turning to face us with his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

He rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by the "Course Aims".

 _1\. Understand the principles underlying defensive magic._

 _2\. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used._

 _3\. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use._

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. Once we had all copied down Professor Umber's course aims he asked, "Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilber Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umber. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umber," or "No, Professor Umber". So, has everyone got a copy on _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

The words "Yes, Professor Umber," rang through the room.

"Good," said Professor Umber. "I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umber left the blackboard and settled himself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, and observed us all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. I turned to page five of my copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and started to read.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Yawn. I felt my concentration slipping away from me; I had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several dull, silent minutes passed. Next to me, Chrissie was absent-mindedly turning her quill over in her fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Next to her, Chris just gazed at the book, not really processing anything. I looked right and received a surprise that shook me out of my torpor. Sian had not even opened her copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umber with her hand in the air.

As far as I can remember, this was the only time that Sian had neglected to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. I looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umber, who looked just as resolutely in another direction.

After several minutes had passed, however, I was not the only one who was watching Sian. The chapter we were instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people around me chose to watch Sian's mute attempt to catch Professor Umber's eye rather than struggle on with "Basics for Beginners".

When more than half of us stared at Sian rather than at our (boring) books, Professor Umber seemed to decide that he could no longer ignore the situation.

"Do you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" he asked Sian, as though he had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Sian.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umber, showing his small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Sian.

Professor Umber raised his eyebrows.

"And your name is?"

"Sian Dawson, sir," said Sian. Then she said pointedly, "The Eldest Dawson Girl and Susan Crighton's eldest daughter."

Professor Umber stared at her for a moment, studying her, contemplating her, like a deliciously large fly he wanted to eat. Then he said, "Will you see me after class, Miss Dawson?"

"Certainly, sir," said Sian calmly, looking at him steadily.

"Good," said Professor Umber very sweetly. "Now back to your original theory, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them carefully," he said in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," said Sian bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many of my classmates turned their heads to frown at the three course aims that were still written on the blackboard.

" _Using_ defensive spells?" Professor Umber repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Dawson. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Chrissie exclaimed loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Miss - ?"

"Dawson," said Chrissie, thrusting her hand into the air. Professor Umber looked from Sian to Chrissie, studying them in surprise, before he smiled widely and turned his back on her.

Sian and I immediately raised our hands too. Professor Umber's pouchy eyes lingered on me for a moment before he addressed Sian.

"Yes, Miss Dawson? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Sian. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Dawson?" said Professor Umber, in his falsely sweet babyish voice.

"No, but - "

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way - "

"What use is that?" I said loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a - "

" _Hand_ , Miss Pride-Lander!" sang Professor Umber.

I thrust my fist in the air. Again, Professor Umber promptly turned away from me, but now several other people had raised their hands up, too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umber said to Dena Wright.

"Dena Wright."

"Well, Miss Wright?"

"Well, it's like Kiara said, isn't it?" said Dena. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," said Professor Umber, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dena, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but - "

Professor Umber talked over her. "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been done in this school," he said, an unconvincing smile stretching his wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention," he gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Meers," Dena piped up angrily, "he was the best we ever - "

" _Hand_ , Miss Wright! As I was saying - you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day - "

"No we haven't," Sian said, "we just - "

 _"Your hand is not up, Miss Dawson!"_

Sian put up her hand. Professor Umber turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, she actually performed them on you. And your name is?" he said, looking at Chris.

"Chris Rickers, and it turned out that she was a maniac! Mind you, we still learned loads."

"That may be," said Professor Umber, "but it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be far more sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. Yes?" he added, staring at Perry, whose hand had just shot up.

"Perry Party, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason as to why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umber dismissively.

"Without ever practicing beforehand?" said Perry incredulously. "Are you seriously telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be performing our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough - "

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" I said loudly, my fist in the air again.

Professor Umber looked up.

"This is school, Miss Pride-Lander, not the real world," said Umber softly.

"What kind of crazy, messed-up logic is this that you are telling us, sir?" said Sian indignantly. "Yes, this is school, but school is about preparing us for life, is it not? To train us up for our careers and also learn the skills to survive if we need them. So therefore, if we are in a position in real life outside school, when we are attacked, we can't just say, "Would you mind waiting a moment before I check my textbook and look for the spell?", or, "Would you mind not attacking me, because I am not that skilled?" No. No attacker is going to be that merciful, are they? They're going to attack us whether we're ready or not, and from the way you're planning on teaching us, Professor, we're going to be dead before we can yell for help, never mind trying to defend ourselves!"

There was a long pause, during which Professor Umber and Sian stared at each other, each trying to size the other up, and as they did this, the strong words that Sian had spoken were forced into all our heads. In a way, it reminded me of something Grumpy would say.

Following this, I said, "So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Miss Pride-Lander."

"Oh, yeah?" I said. My temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just below the surface all that day, was just below boiling point.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umber in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think ..." I said, in a mock-thoughtful voice. "Maybe ... _Lady Zira_?"

Chris and Chrissie gasped; Larry Brown uttered a little scream; Nikita slipped sideways off her stool. Professor Umber, however, did not flinch. He stared at me with a grimly satisfied expression on his face.

"Ten points from Lion-Heart, Miss Pride-Lander."

The entire class was still and silent. Everyone stared at either myself or Umber.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umber stood up and leaned towards us, his stubby-fingered hands splayed on his desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark witch has returned from the dead - "

"She wasn't dead," I said angrily, "but yeah, she's returned!"

"Miss-Pride-Lander-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse for-yourself," said Professor Umber in one breath without looking at me. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark witch is at large once again. _This is a lie._ "

"It is NOT a lie!" I said. "I saw her, I fought her!"

"Detention, Miss Pride-Lander!" said Professor Umber triumphantly. "This evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark witch or wizard. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark witches, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners"."

Professor Umber sat down behind his desk. I, on the other hand, wasn't done yet, so I stood up, ready to unleash the fire within me. Everyone stared at me; Zara looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

"Kiara, no!" Sian whispered in a warning voice, tugging at my sleeve, but I jerked my arm out of her reach, determined to have my say, consequences be damned!

"So, according to you, Georgia Diggs dropped dead of her own accord, did she?" I asked, my voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from my classmates, for none of them, apart from Chris, Sian and Chrissie, had ever heard me talk about what had happened on the night Georgia had died. They stared avidly from myself to Professor Umber, who had raised his eyes and stared at me without any trace of a fake smile on his face.

"Georgia Diggs' death was a tragic accident," he said coldly.

"It was murder," I said. I felt myself shaking. I had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Zira killed her and you know it."

Professor Umber's face was quite blank. For a moment, I thought he was going to scream at me. Then he said, in his softest, most sweetly babyish voice, "Come here, Miss Pride-Lander, dear."

I kicked my chair aside, strode around Chris, Sian and Chrissie and up to the teacher's desk. I felt the rest of the class holding its breath. I felt so angry that I didn't care what happened next.

Professor Umber pulled a small roll of baby-blue parchment out of his satchel, stretched it out on the desk, dipped his quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that I didn't see what he wrote. No one spoke. After a minute or so he rolled up the parchment and tapped it with his wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that I could not open it.

"Take this to Professor Darbus, dear," said Professor Umber, holding the note out to me.

I took it from him without saying a word, turned on my heel and left the room, not bothering to look back at Chris, Sian and Chrissie as I went, slamming the classroom door shut behind me. I walked very fast along the corridor, the note to Darbus clutched tight in my hand, and I turned a corner and walked right into Weeves the poltergeist, a wide-mouthed little woman floating on her back in midair, juggling several inkwells.

"Why, it's Pridey wee Pride-Lander!" cackled Weeves, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; I jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.

"Get out of it, Weeves!"

"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky," said Weeves, as she pursued me along the corridor, leering as she zoomed along above me. "What is it this time, my fine Pridey friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in - " Weeves blew a gigantic raspberry " - _tongues_?"

"I said, leave me ALONE!" I shouted, running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Weeves merely slid down the banister on her back beside me.

 _"Oh, most think she's barking, the Pridey wee girl,_

 _But some are more kindly and think she shines as bright as a pearl,_

 _But Weevsey knows better and says that she's mad - "_

"SHUT UP!"

A door to my left flew open and Professor Darbus emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

"What on _earth_ are you shouting about, Pride-Lander?" she snapped, as Weeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. "Why aren't you in class?"

"I've been sent to see you," I said stiffly.

"Sent?" What do you mean, _sent_?"

I held out the note from Professor Umber. Professor Darbus took it from me, frowned, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umber wrote, and with each line they became narrower.

"Come in here, Pride-Lander."

I followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind me.

"Well?" said Professor Darbus, rounding on me. "Is this true?"

"Is what true?" I asked, rather more aggressively than I had intended. "Professor?" I added, in an attempt to sound not only more polite, but apologetic too.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umber?"

"Yes," I said.

"That you called him a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told him She Who Must Not Be Named is back?"

"Yes."

Professor Darbus sat down behind her desk, watching me closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Pride-Lander."

"Have - what?"

"Have a biscuit," she said impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."

There had been an occasion prior to this one, when I expected to be caned by Professor Darbus, but instead I found myself on the Lion-Heart Quidditch team. I sank into a chair opposite her and helped myself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as I had done on that occasion.

Professor Darbus set down Professor Umber's note and looked very seriously at me.

"Pride-Lander, you need to be careful."

I swallowed my mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what I had expected it to sound; it was not the brisk, crisp and stern tone that I was used to; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

"Misbehaviour in Democritus Umber's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention."

"What do you - ?"

"Pride-Lander, use your common sense," snapped Professor Darbus, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where he comes from, you must know to whom he is reporting."

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

"It says here he's given you detention every evening this week, starting tonight," Professor Darbus said, looking down at Umber's note again.

"Every evening this week!" I said, horrified. "But, Professor, couldn't you - ?"

"No, I couldn't," said Professor Darbus flatly.

"But - "

"He is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to his room at five o'clock tonight for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Democritus Umber."

"But I was telling the truth!" I said, outraged. "Zira is back, you know she is; Professor Crighton knows she is - "

"For heaven's sake, Pride-Lander!" said Professor Darbus, as she straightened her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when I had used Zira's name). "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!"

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and I stood up too.

"Have another biscuit," she said irritably, thrusting the tin at me.

"No, thanks," I said coldly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.

I took one.

"Thanks," I said grudgingly.

"Didn't you listen to Democritus Umber's speech at the start-of-term feast, Pride-Lander?"

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah ... he said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Dragon Mort."

Professor Darbus eyed me closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held the door open for me.

"Well, I'm glad you listen to Sian Dawson at any rate," she said, pointing me out of her office.

 **SIAN**

The bell rang. Around her, students were scrambling for the door, all eager to put as much space between them and Umber as possible before the next time they were all in a confined space with him again. Chris and Chrissie looked at Sian nervously, but she just nodded at them to go on without her, for she knew that they were nervous for her about her talk with Umber, but Sian herself knew that she would be fine. True, she was quite nervous when stepping up to the teacher's desk, but she wasn't about to let Umber see that. After all, as she had been told many times before: in the face of adversity, stand tall, stand your ground, keep composed, show no fear.

Once the door had closed, Umber stood up. Sian towered over him. If he was a different person, Sian would have been pleased by this; but knowing who he was, Sian kept her emotions in check.

"You wanted to speak with me, Professor Umber?"

"Yes, indeed I did," said Professor Umber in that annoying babyish voice of his that made Sian's insides squirm uncomfortably. "I understand that you're close with your mother, is that correct?"

"Yes," said Sian slowly. "What about it?" Sian was curious and slightly worried about his intentions now, but still, she kept her composure.

"Well, I just wondered if your mother has said anything to you about your friend, Miss Pride-Lander?"

"And what if she has?" Sian asked carefully, studying the man in front of her closely.

"Well, I'm just curious to know what your mother has to say about her," said Umber sweetly, "and what she thinks about Miss Pride-Lander in general. Bear in mind, that whatever you say to me will be kept in confidence - "

Sian laughed at this; she couldn't help it. "Confidence?" she spat. "Really? You expect me to believe that, do you?"

Umber stared at Sian blankly. "But of course I do, dear. Whatever you tell me I shall not share with anyone - "

"Really?" Sian interrupted him. "Not even the Minister, Professor?"

Sian then saw something that she couldn't name flicker across Umber's face, and she knew she had him. She knew that he was trying to get in between her and her mother, and there was no way that Sian was going to give in to him. An undeniable feeling of fiery rage and hatred towards this man consumed her in that moment. So Sian drew herself up to her fullest height and told him, "Sir, you can do whatever you want to me, but let me make this perfectly clear: my loyalty to my mother will never fade. I will never tell you what you want to know. I will stand by my mother's side, proud and strong, like I have always done. True, I wasn't by her side last year, but in my heart I was, even though the circumstances were different - I know that, you don't have to tell me about it," she said, brushing her hand aside impatiently. "The point is is that no matter what happens I will not betray my mother, my family or my friends to you. The loyalty to my mother will never die, and not you nor anyone else will _ever_ come between us."

"So," said Umber, the babyish tone in his voice gone; his face hardened and he glared up into the steely gaze of the proud, strong girl above him, "so ... that's how it is, is it?"

"I'm afraid so, sir," said Sian, not backing down. "Just because you're from the Ministry does not mean that I'm scared of you. Not only that, but I will not give up on my family to chase my ambitions."

Umber's face hardened even more. "You're treading on dangerous waters here, Miss Dawson. You will not win."

"Funny, I was going to say the exact same thing to you." A small glimpse of amusement flashed across Sian's face, before she turned on her heel and left.

Once the door shut, Sian leaned against it, and breathed out a small sigh of relief. She was worried about her family this year, about what Umber would do to get to each of them. But Sian meant what she said: she wasn't about to let Umber or anyone else who stood in between she and her family tear her away from them, for until her dying day, no matter how old they got, no matter the circumstances, Sian would always be there to defend them. She made that promise to herself, ever since the day that she -

Sian shook her head. She would not go there. Not now. Remembering that it was time for dinner, Sian quickly dashed off, unaware that a figure with piercing green eyes was watching her with pride and love shining out of them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **Detention with Democritus**

 **KIARA**

I found dinner in the Great Hall that night an unpleasant experience to say the least. The news about my shouting match with Umber had travelled exceptionally fast, even by Dragon Mort standards. I heard whispering all around me as I sat eating with Chris, Sian and Chrissie. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind me overhearing what they said about me. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping I would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear my story first-hand.

"She says she saw Georgia Diggs murdered ..."

"She reckons she duelled with She-You-Know ..."

"Come off it ..."

"Pur- _lease_ ..."

"What I don't get," I said through clenched teeth, as I lay down my knife and fork (my hands shook too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Crighton told them, and afterwards when they all saw Georgia's spirit."

"The thing is, Kiara, I'm not sure they did," said Sian grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here."

She slammed down her own knife and fork; Chris followed suit; Chrissie looked longingly at her half-finished apple pie but followed them. People stared at us all the way out of the Hall.

"What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Crighton or Georgia's spirit?" I asked Sian once we had reached the first-floor landing.

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Sian quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Georgia's dead body ... none of us saw what happened in the maze ... we just had Ma's word for it that She-You-Know had come back, killed Georgia and fought you ... not to mention, they believe that what we did with Georgia was a show to give you some sympathy ... because Georgia never explained how she was murdered by She-You-Know."

"Which is the truth!" I said loudly.

"I know it is, Kiara, so will you _please_ stop biting my head off?" said Sian wearily. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Ma's going senile - which is ridiculous!"

Rain pounded on the windowpanes as we strode along the empty corridors back to Lion-Heart Tower. I felt as though my first day back had lasted a week, but I still had a mountain of homework to do, which unfortunately had to wait as I had my first detention with Umber shortly. A dull pounding pain developed over my right eye. I glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as we turned into the Fat Lord's corridor. There still was no light in Mina's cabin.

 _"Mimbulus mimbletonia,"_ said Sian, before the Fat Lord had asked. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the four of us scrambled through it.

The common room was almost empty when we arrived; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Lucifer uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet us, purring loudly, and when Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I took our four favourite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Sian's lap and curled up there like a furry black cushion. I gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.

" _How_ can Ma have let this happen?" Sian cried suddenly, making Chris, Chrissie and I jump; Lucifer leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can she let that terrible man teach us? And in our OWL year, too!"

"Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" I said. "You know what it's like, Mina told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed."

"Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! _What's_ Ma playing at? I mean, the guy practically asked me to betray Ma and join him!"

Chris, Chrissie and I were shocked and angered by this.

"What?!"

"He never!"

"Shut up!"

"I know, but he did." Sian shook her head in disgust.

"So what did you do, Sian?" I asked her.

"Well, I told him that I would never betray my mother or my friends to people like him." Sian snorted. "I mean, as if I would ever join him? Please, get real here!"

"So he's trying to get people to spy for him, especially those who are close to Ma?" Chrissie asked Sian darkly.

"Pretty much," Sian sighed.

"Well that's just insulting! As if any of us would betray Ma! D'you remember when he said he wanted us to come and tell him if we hear anyone's saying She-You-Know's back?"

"Of course he's here to spy on us all, that's obvious," Chris snapped. "Why else would Sweets have wanted him to come? Not just that, though: why is Umber trying to get us to turn against our mother?"

"Don't start arguing again," I said wearily, as Chrissie opened her mouth to retaliate. Looking at my watch, I saw that it was five to five. I sighed and said, "I've got to go before I'm late for Umber, and he'll probably be giving me a weekend's load of detentions if I am late." So I bade the other three goodbye and set off for Umber's office on the third floor. When I knocked on the door he called, "Come in," in a sugary voice. I entered cautiously, looking around.

I had known this office under three of its previous occupants. In the days when Giselle Gold had lived there it had been plastered in beaming portraits of herself. When Meers occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating, Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In the impostor Grumpy's days it had been packed with various instruments and artefacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment.

Under Umber's control, however, it looked totally unrecognisable. The surfaces had all been draped with cloths, and there were model trains covering almost every surface. On one of the walls hung a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour puppy wearing a different fluffy collar around its neck. They were so foul that I stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umber spoke again.

"Good evening, Miss Pride-Lander."

I stared and looked around. I had not noticed him at first because he wore a set of baby-blue robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind him.

"Evening, Professor Umber," I said stiffly.

"Well, sit down," he said, pointing towards a small table draped in a baby-blue velvet cloth, beside which he had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for me.

I stared at him, feeling the pain over my right eye worsen, but I ignored this and Umber and I dropped my schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair and sat down.

"I'm glad to see that your temper has improved in the past few hours, Miss Pride-Lander," said Umber, smiling widely, which did nothing to improve my temper, but with a massive effort, I kept that hidden. "Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me today, Miss Pride-Lander. No, not with your quill," he added, as I bent down to open my bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

He handed me a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

"I want you to write, _I must not tell lies_ ," he told me softly.

"How many times?" I asked, with a creditable amount of politeness.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_ ," said Umber sweetly. "Off you go."

He moved over to his desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking (even though it was the first day). I raised the sharp black quill, then realised what I was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink," I said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umber, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in his voice.

I placed the point of my quill on the paper and wrote: _I must not tell lies_.

I let out a gasp of pain. The words that appeared on the parchment appeared in what I first thought was shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of my right hand, cut into my skin as though traced there by a scalpel - yet even as I stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

I looked round at Umber then. He was watching me, his wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," I said quietly.

I looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote _I must not tell lies_ , and felt the searing pain on the back of my hand for the second time; once again, the words had been cut into my skin; once again, they healed over seconds later.

And on it went. Again and again I wrote the words on the parchment, and I soon came to realise that it wasn't ink I wrote with, but rather _my own blood_! Again and again, the words were cut into the back of my hand, healed, and reappeared the next time I set quill to parchment.

Darkness fell outside Umber's window. I, naturally, was shocked and horrified by Umber's view of punishment, but I didn't do anything. I didn't ask when I could stop. I did not even check my watch. I knew he watched me just in case I let show a sign of weakness, but I never dared to show it, not even if I had to sit there all night, cutting open my own hand with that quill ...

"Come here," he said (finally), after what seemed like hours.

I stood up. My hand stung painfully. When I looked down at it, I saw the cut had healed, but the skin there was red raw.

"Hand," he said.

I extended it. He took it in his own. I repressed a shudder as he touched me with his thick, stubby fingers on which he wore a number of ugly old rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have much of an impression yet," he said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

I left his office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. I walked slowly up the corridor, then, when I turned a corner and was sure Umber wouldn't hear me, I broke into a run.

0000

The next day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the day before. Mina was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the plus side, no Triphorm today," said Chrissie bracingly. She then turned to me and said, "So, what did Umber make you do last night, anyway?"

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "Lines."

"Oh, well, that's not too bad, is it?" said Chris.

"Nope," I said. I was feeling uncomfortable about lying to my friends, so I decided to change the subject. "So, what about you three? Did you manage to get any work done last night?"

From what I heard from Chris, Sian and Chrissie, they hadn't got any work done from the night before. Tanya and Geri had apparently been using first-years as testers for a new sweet of theirs: Jelly Bean Balloon Boils, which made the eater grow huge boils on their backs, which were so huge that people's robes almost split. Anyway, Chris and Sian stood up and talked to Tanya and Geri, saying that it was wrong for them to be treating first-years in such a manner, but Tanya and Geri wouldn't buy it; it was only when Sian suggested that she would write to Sarabi if the twins kept feeding them to first-years that the girls stopped their laughter, before Sian confiscated a clipboard and the bag of sweets. And did Chrissie help in this at all? Well, I think you know the answer to that one, don't you?

Sian yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when I asked her what she was so happy about, she simply said, "Oh, I've started putting out hats for house-elves so that I can try and free them, and I'm happy to say that when I came down this morning and saw them, they were gone. Seems like the house-elves do want freedom, after all," she added snidely, turning to Chrissie.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Chrissie told her cuttingly. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."

Sian banged her fist loudly on the table, sloshing her coffee dangerously. Chris, Chrissie and I backed off slightly from the way Sian was looking at Chrissie with wide unblinking eyes and flared nostrils. After glaring at Chrissie like this for some time as she breathed heavily, Sian then turned back to her breakfast and jabbed at her bacon, biting it angrily, so angrily that I thought more than once that she might bite off the end of the fork, too. Chris then looked at Chrissie disapprovingly. Chrissie blushed slightly and looked down at her food, playing with it. Sian didn't speak to Chrissie for the rest of the morning.

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Winds and Professor Darbus both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing us on the importance of OWLs.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Winds squeakily, perched as ever on top of a pile of books so that she could see over the top of her desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

We then spent over an hour revising Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Winds were bound to come up in our OWL, and she rounded off the lesson by setting us our largest ever amount of Charms homework.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

"You cannot pass an OWL," said Professor Darbus grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Nikita made a sad little disbelieving noise. "Yes, you too, Bore," said Professor Darbus. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So ... today we are starting with Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She was quite right; I found the Vanishing Spell horribly difficult. By the end of a double period neither myself, Chris or Chrissie had managed to vanish the snails on which we had been practicing, though Chris said hopefully he thought his looked a bit paler. Sian, on the other hand, successfully vanished her snail on the third attempt, earning her a ten-point bonus for Lion-Heart from Professor Darbus. She was the only one not given homework; the rest of us were told to practice the spell overnight, to prepare and be ready for a fresh attempt on our snails the following afternoon.

We were panicking slightly about the amount of homework we had to do, so Chris, Chrissie and I spent our lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Still angry about Chrissie's slur on her woolly hats, Sian did not join us. My head ached again when we reached Care of Magical Creatures.

The day became cool and breezy, and as we walked down the sloping lawn towards Mina's cabin on the edge of the Black Forest, we felt the occasional drop of rain on our faces. Professor Smutty-Stave stood waiting for us some ten yards from Mina's front door, a long trestle table in front of him laden with twigs. As Chris, Chrissie and I reached him, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind us; turning, we saw Dani Malty striding toward us, surrounded by her usual gang of Snake-Eyes cronies, apart from Rea-Bradley, who walked a bit behind them, looking sombre. Anyhoo, Malty had said something that must have been amusing, because Crate, Gabber, Parry Parker and most of the Snake-Eyes continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking at me, it didn't take me long to guess what the subject of the joke was without too much difficulty.

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Smutty-Stave, once all we Lion-Hearts and Snake-Eyes arrived. "Good. Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

He indicated the heap of twigs in front of him. Sian's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malty did a buck-toothed impression of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question, which Rea-Bradley frowned at. Parry Parker gave a shout of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

"Oooooh!" said Perry and Larry, which thoroughly irritated me. Anyone would have thought Mina had never shown us impressive creatures; admittedly, the Flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the Salamanders and Hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Shudder-Ended Crabs perhaps too much so.

"Kindly keep your voices down, boys!" said Professor Smutty-Stave sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice amongst the stick creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So - anyone know the names of these creatures? Eldest Dawson Girl?"

"Bowtruckles," said Sian. "They're tree-guardians who usually reside in wand trees."

"Five points for Lion-Heart," said Professor Smutty-Stave. "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as the Eldest Dawson Girl rightfully said, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Woodlice," said Sian promptly, which explained why what I had taken to be grains of brown rice were moving. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or word from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or please it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered, they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle - I have enough here for one between four - you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson."

My class surged forwards around the trestle table. I, though, deliberately circled around the back so that I ended up right next to Professor Smutty-Stave.

"Where's Mina?" I asked him, as everyone else chose a Bowtruckle.

"Never you mind," said Professor Smutty-Stave repressively, which had been his attitude the last time Mina failed to turn up for a class, too. Dani Malty leaned across me and seized the largest Bowtruckle, smirking.

"Maybe," said Malty in an undertone, so that I could hear her, "the stupid great oaf's got herself badly injured."

"Maybe you will if you don't shut up," I said out of the side of my mouth.

"Maybe she's been messing with stuff that's too _big_ for her, if you catch my drift."

Malty walked away, a smirk all over her stupid face - which was directed at me over her shoulder - which made me feel suddenly sick. I couldn't help but wonder if Malty knew something I didn't. Her mother was a Love Destroyer after all; what if she had information about Mina's fate that had not reached the Order's ears? I noticed Rea-Bradley glance sharply at Malty before she turned to me. The look she gave me surprised me, for she looked sad and apologetic, as if she was sorry for her cousin's behaviour. For a moment, I thought she was going to come and speak to me, but then she shook her head and turned away. To be honest, I don't know how I would have reacted if she had, for even though I saw a change in her behaviour and her distance from Malty, it didn't change the fact that she had not once stepped up to me and talked. Besides, she was a Snake-Eyes. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and hurried back around the table to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who sat on the grass some distance away and were attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. I pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Malty had told me.

"Ma would know if something had happened to Mina," said Sian at once. "It's just playing into Malty's hands to look worried; it tells her we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore her, Kiara. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face ..."

"Yes," came Malty's drawl from the group nearest us, "Mother was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard teaching in this place. So even if that outgrown moron _does_ show up again, she'll probably be sent packing straightaway."

"OUCH!"

I had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at my hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two deep cuts there. I dropped it. Crate and Gabber, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Mina being sacked, laughed still harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up amongst the tree roots. When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds, I rolled up my blood-stained Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with my hand wrapped in one of Sian's handkerchiefs, and Malty's derisive laughter still ringing in my ears.

"If she calls Mina a moron one more time ..." I said through clenched teeth.

"Kiara, don't go picking a row with Malty, don't forget, she's a Prefect now, she could make life difficult for you ..."

"Wow, I wonder what it's like to have a difficult life?" I said sarcastically. Chris and Chrissie laughed, but Sian frowned. Together, the four of us traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared unable to make up its mind as to whether or not it wanted to rain.

"I just wish Mina would hurry up and get back, that's all," I said in a low voice, as we reached the greenhouses. "And don't say that Smutty-Stave man's a better teacher!" I added threateningly.

"I wasn't going to," said Sian calmly.

"Because he'll never be as good as Mina," I said firmly, whilst being fully aware that I had experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and I was thoroughly annoyed about it.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Beth and Kestrel.

"Hi," they both said brightly as they passed. A few seconds later, Lincoln Lovedream emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on his nose, and his hair tied in a knot on the top of his head. When he saw me, his prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and he made a beeline straight for me. Many of my classmates turned curiously to watch. Lincoln took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I believe She Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought her and escaped from her."

"Er - right," I said awkwardly. Lincoln was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Perry and Larry both seemed to have noticed, as they both laughed and pointed at his earlobes.

"You can laugh," said Lincoln, his voice rising, apparently under the impression that Perry and Larry were laughing at what he said rather than what he wore, "but people used to believe that there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" said Sian impatiently. "There _aren't_ any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

Lincoln gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Perry and Larry were not the only ones who hooted with laughter.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" I asked Sian as we made our way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Kiara, you can do better than _him_ ," said Sian. "Beth's told me all about him; apparently, he'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose mother owns _The Mystics_."

I thought of the sinister winged horses I had seen on the night I came back and how Lincoln had said he saw them too. I remember the feeling of my spirit sinking slightly when I heard what Sian had just told me. I couldn't help but ask myself if he had been lying, but before I could give the mystery that was Lincoln Lovedream any thought, Emily Mack stepped up to me.

"I want you to know, Pride-Lander," she said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per-cent. My family have always stood firmly behind Crighton, and so do I."

"Er - thanks very much, Emily," I said, taken aback but pleased. Yes, Emily might be pompous on occasions such as these, but I was in a mood to deeply appreciate a vote of confidence from somebody who didn't have radishes dangling from their ears. Emily's words certainly had wiped the smile from Larry Brown's face, and as I turned to talk to Chris, Sian and Chrissie, I caught Zara's expression, which was a fusion of confusion and defiance.

None of us were surprised when Spud started our lesson by lecturing us about the importance of OWLs. I so wished that all our teachers would stop doing this; I had been getting an anxious feeling in my stomach every time I remembered how much homework I had to get done, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Spud gave us yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Spud's preferred type of fertiliser, we Lion-Hearts trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of us talking very much; it had been another long day.

As I was starving, and I had my second detention with Umber at five o'clock, I headed straight for dinner without dropping off my bag in Lion-Heart Tower so that I could bolt something down before spending a few endless hours having to cut my hand open again. I had barely reached the entrance of the Great Hall, however, when a loud and angry voice yelled, "Oi, Pride-Lander!"

"What now?" I muttered wearily, as I turned to face Andrew Johnstone, who looked as though he was in a towering temper.

"I'll tell you _what now_ ," he said, marching straight up to me and poking me hard in the chest with his finger. "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"What?" I said. "Why ... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!"

" _Now_ she remembers!" snarled Andrew. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the _whole team_ , and find someone who _fitted in with everyone_? Didn't I tell you I booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there!" I said, stung by the injustice of these words. "I got detention from the Umber man, just because I told him the truth about She-You-Know."

"Well, you can just go straight to him and ask him to let you off on Friday," said Andrew fiercely, "and I don't care how you do it. Tell him She-You-Know's a figment of your imagination if you like, just _make sure you're there_!"

He turned on his heel and stormed away.

"You know what?" I said to Chris, Sian and Chrissie as we entered the Great Hall. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Olivia Cane's been killed during a training session, because Andrew seems to be channelling her spirit."

"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umber letting you off on Friday?" said Chrissie sceptically, as we sat down at the Lion-Heart table.

"Less than zero," I said glumly, as I tipped lamb chops on to my plate and started to eat. "Better try, though, hadn't I? I'll offer to do two more detentions or something, I dunno ..." I swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, "I hope he doesn't keep me too long this evening. You realise we've got to write two essays, practice Vanishing Spells for Darbus, work out a counter-charm for Winds, finish the Bowtruckle drawing and start that stupid dream diary for Crystals?"

Chris and Chrissie both moaned, and for some reason, Chrissie looked up at the ceiling.

 _"And_ it looks like it's going to rain."

"What's that got to do with homework?" said Sian, her eyebrows raised, as Chris and I looked at her slowly.

"Nothing," said Chrissie at once, a furious blush instantly appearing on her face.

And so, I went up to Umber's office again, knocked on the door and entered once he told me to come in.

"Good evening, Miss Pride-Lander."

"Evening, Professor Umber," I said, just as stiffly as the previous evening. I remained where I was for a few moments, wondering how to voice the question about the Quidditch tryouts.

"Er," I said nervously, "Professor Umber. Er - before we start again, I - I wanted to ask you a ... a favour."

His bulging eyes narrowed.

"Oh, yes?"

"Well, I'm ... I'm in the Lion-Heart Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was - was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it - do it another night ... instead ..."

I knew long before I reached the end of my sentence that it was no good.

"Oh, no," said Umber, and he smiled so widely that he looked as though he had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. "Oh, no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Miss Pride-Lander, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow and Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

I felt the blood surge to my head and heard a thumping noise in my ears at this. So I told "evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories", did I?

He watched me with his head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though he knew exactly what I thought and was waiting to see whether I would start to shout again. With a massive effort, I looked away from him and moved towards the table.

"There," Umber simpered, as I put my schoolbag down and sat in the straight-backed chair, "we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we. Now you know what to do, Miss Pride-Lander, so get on with it."

"Yes, Professor Umber," I said, mustering all my strength to keep my voice level and polite as I looked at Umber's wide, smiling face. Scowling, I turned to the parchment and picked up the quill.

Well, my second detention was just as bad as the first one. The skin on the back of my hand became irritated more quickly by this point and soon it was red and inflamed. I thought it unlikely that it would keep healing effectively for long. Soon the cut would become etched into my hand and Umber would, perhaps, be satisfied. I let no gasp of pain escape me, however, and the last words I said to him were, "Goodnight, Professor Umber."

My homework situation, however, was now desperate, and when I returned to the Lion-Heart common room, I did not, though exhausted, go to bed, but instead I opened my books and began Triphorm's moonstone essay. It was half past two by the time I finished it. I knew I had done a poor job, but there was no help for it; unless I gave something in I would be in detention with Triphorm next. The next thing I did was finish off the drawing of the Bowtruckle for Professor Smutty-Stave, before I staggered off to bed, where I fell immediately on top of my bed, fully clothed, and let sleep take me.

0000

Even though I had done most of my homework, that did not mean to say that I had finished it all. I had no time to practice Vanishing Spells, had not written a single dream in my dream diary, had not finished the drawing of the Bowtruckle, and I still had a few essays to complete. Thursday morning I woke up early, despite how much I wanted to go back to sleep, scribbled down a couple of made-up dreams for Divination, our first lesson, and I was surprised to find a dishevelled Chrissie keeping me company.

"How come you didn't do it last night?" I asked, as Chrissie stared wildly around the common room for inspiration. Chrissie, who I had found fast asleep by the time I got back to the dormitory (I think), muttered something about "doing other stuff", bent low over her parchment and scrawled a few words.

"That'll have to do," she said, slamming the diary shut. "I've said I dreamed I was buying some sweets, he can't make anything out of that, can he?"

We hurried off to north Tower together.

"So, did Umber let you off for Friday?"

"No," I said.

Chrissie groaned sympathetically.

It was another bad day for me; I was one of the worst in Transfiguration, not having practiced Vanishing Spells at all. I had to give up my lunch hour to complete the picture of the Bowtruckle and, meanwhile, Professors Darbus, Smutty-Stave and Comet gave us yet more homework, which I had no prospect of finishing that evening, because of my third detention with Umber. To cap it all, Andrew Johnstone tracked me down at dinner again and, on learning that I would not be able to attend Friday's Keeper tryouts, told me he was not at all impressed by my attitude and that he expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments.

"I'm in detention!" I yelled after him as I stalked away. "D'you think I'd rather be stuck in a room with that old toad or playing Quidditch?"

"Come on, Kiara," said Chris consolingly. "At least it's only lines."

"Chris is right, Kiara. Every cloud has a silver lining, you know," said Sian, as I sank back on the bench and looked down at my steak and kidney pie, which did not look very appealing after that. "Besides, its not as if its a dreadful punishment, really ..." (Boy, if they only knew ...)

I opened my mouth, closed it again and nodded. To this day I do not know why I did not tell Chris, Sian and Chrissie exactly what had happened in Umber's room: I only knew that I did not want to see their looks of horror; that would make the whole thing seem worse and therefore difficult to face. I also felt dimly that this was between myself and Umber (even though Sian had already quarrelled with him), a private battle of wills, and I was not going to give him the satisfaction of hearing that I had complained about it.

"I can't believe how much homework we've got," said Chrissie miserably.

"Well, why didn't you do it last night?" Sian asked her. "Where were you, anyway?"

"I was ... I fancied a walk," said Chrissie shiftily.

I had the distinct impression that I was not alone in concealing things at the time.

0000

And so as you can all see, my Thursday was a terrible one, though that was due to tiredness - and Chrissie seemed very sleepy too, though I didn't see why she should be (the reason for this will be revealed to you shortly). My third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, except that after two hours the words _"I must not tell lies"_ did not fade from the back of my hand, but remained scratched there, oozing droplets of blood. The pause in the pointed quill's scratching made Professor Umber look up.

"Ah," he said softly, moving around his desk to examine my hand himself. "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder for you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight."

"Do I still have to come back tomorrow?" I said, picking up my schoolbag with my left hand rather than my smarting right one.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umber, who smiled as widely as before. "Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work."

Never before this point in my school career had I considered the possibility that there might be another teacher in the world that I hated more than Triphorm, but as I walked back to Lion-Heart Tower I had to admit that I had found a strong contender. He's evil, I thought, as I climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, he's an evil, twisted, mad old -

"Chrissie?"

I reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Chrissie, who lurked behind a statue of Lucian the Lanky, clutching her broomstick. She gave a leap of surprise when she saw me and attempted to hide her new Cleansweep Twenty-Three behind her back.

"What are you doing?"

"Er - nothing. What are _you_ doing?"

I frowned at her.

"Come on, Chrissie, you can tell me! What are you hiding here for?"

"I'm - I'm hiding from Tanya and Geri if you must know," she said. "They just went past with a bunch of first-years; I bet they're testing stuff on them again. I mean, they can't do it in the common room now, can they, not with Chris and Sian there - _especially_ Sian."

She talked in a very fast, feverish way.

"But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you?" I asked.

"I - well - well, OK, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right?" Chrissie said defensively, burning redder with every second. "I - I thought I'd try out for Lion-Heart Keeper with my new broom. There. Go on. Laugh."

"I'm not laughing," I said. Chrissie blinked. "I think it's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good?"

"I'm not bad," said Chrissie, who looked immediately relieved by my reaction. "Kat, Tanya and Geri always made me Keep for them when they came round to ours, as did Merida, Ben, Dave and Chris during the holidays."

"So you've been practicing tonight?"

"Just since last night ... just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be," Chrissie looked nervous and anxious. "Tanya and Geri are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for tryouts tomorrow. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a Prefect."

"I wish I was going to be there," I said bitterly, as we set off together towards the common room.

"Yeah, so do - Kiara, what's that on the back of your hand?"

I made a mistake by scratching my nose with my free hand and I tried to hide it quickly, but I had as much success as Chrissie had with her Cleansweep.

"It's just a cut - it's nothing - it's - "

But Chrissie grabbed my free arm and pulled the back of my hand up level with her eyes. There was a pause, during which she stared at the words carved into my skin, then, looking sick, she released me.

"I thought you said he was just giving you lines?"

I hesitated, but after all, Chrissie had been honest with me, so I told Chrissie the truth about the hours I had been spending in Umber's office.

"That monster!" Chrissie said in a revolted whisper as we came to a halt in front of the Fat Lord, who dozed peacefully with his head against his frame. "He's sick! Go to Darbus, say something!"

"No," I said at once. "I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he's got to me."

" _Got to you?_ You can't let him get away with this!"

"I don't know how much power Darbus has got over him," I said.

"Ma, then, tell Ma!"

"No," I said flatly.

"Why not?"

"She's got enough on her mind," I said, but this was not the true reason. I was not going to Crighton for help when Crighton had not spoken to me since June that year.

"Well, I reckon you should - " Chrissie began, but she was interrupted by the Fat Lord, who watched us sleepily before he got impatient with us and burst out, "Are you going to give me the password or am I going to have to stay awake all night, waiting for you to finish your conversation?"

0000

Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Though I automatically glanced towards the staff table when I entered the Great Hall, it was without any real hope of seeing Mina, and I turned my mind immediately to my more pressing problems, such as the mountainous pile of homework I had to do and the prospect of yet another detention with Umber.

Two things sustained me that day. One was the thought that it was almost the weekend; the other was that, dreadful though my final detention with Umber was sure to be, I had a distant view of the Quidditch pitch from his window and might, with luck, be able to see something of Chrissie's tryout. These were rather feeble rays of light, it was true, but I was grateful for anything that might lighten my present darkness; I had never had a worse first week of term at Dragon Mort.

At five o'clock that evening I knocked on Professor Umber's office door for what I sincerely hoped would be the final time (wishful thinking, strikes again!), and was told to enter. The blank parchment lay ready for me on the velvet-covered table, the pointed black quill beside it.

"You know what to do, Miss Pride-Lander," said Umber, smiling sweetly at me.

I picked up the quill and glanced through the window. I very carefully shifted my chair an inch or so to the right ... on the pretext of shifting myself closer to the table, and managed it. I then had a distant view of the Lion-Heart Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen navy figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. From where I was in the castle, I couldn't tell which one was Chrissie, but I sent her a silent prayer of luck, and kept on rooting for her in my head all the way through that detention.

 _I must not tell lies_ , I wrote. The cut on the back of my right hand opened and began to bleed afresh.

 _I must not tell lies_. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting.

 _I must not tell lies._ Blood trickled down my wrist.

I chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever defended the goalposts did a very poor job indeed. Keith Ball scored twice in the few seconds I dared to watch. I hoped very much that the Keeper wasn't Chrissie, before I dropped my eyes back to the parchment that shined with my blood.

 _I must not tell lies._

 _I must not tell lies._

I looked up whenever I thought I could risk it; when I heard Umber's quill scratching or he opened a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but then fumbled on an easy score. The sky darkened, and I began to doubt whether I would be able to see the sixth or seventh people at all.

 _I must not tell lies._

 _I must not tell lies._

The parchment was dotted with drops of my blood from the back of my hand, which seared with pain. When I next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible to me.

"Let's see if you've got the message yet, shall we?" Umber's soft voice spoke half an hour after that.

He moved towards me, stretching out his short ringed fingers for my arm. And then, as he took hold of me to examine the words that were cut into my skin (and which will stay with me until I die), pain seared, not across the back of my hand, but across the scar on my forehead. At the same time, I felt a most peculiar sensation around my midriff.

I wrenched my arm out of his grip and leapt to my feet, staring at him. He stared back at me, a smile stretching his wide, slack mouth.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" he said softly.

I did not answer. My heart thumped hard and fast. I didn't know if he was talking about my hand or what I felt in my forehead.

"Well, I think I've made my point, Miss Pride-Lander. You may go."

I caught up my schoolbag and left the room as quickly as I could.

 _Stay calm_ , I told myself, as I sprinted up the stairs. _Stay calm, it doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means ..._

 _"Mimbulus Mimbletonia!"_ I gasped at the Fat Lord, who swung forwards at once.

A roar of sound greeted me. Chrissie came running towards me, beaming all over her face and slopping Butterbeer down her front from the goblet she clutched.

"Kiara, I did it, I'm in, I'm Keeper!"

"What? Oh - brilliant!" I said, trying to smile naturally, while my heart continued to race and my hand throbbed and bled.

"Have a Butterbeer." Chrissie pressed a bottle on me. "I can't believe it - where've Sian and Chris gone?"

"They're there," said Tanya, who was also swigging a Butterbeer, and pointed at two armchairs by the fire. Sian was dozing in one, and Chris' head was nodding in the other, both their drinks tipping precariously in their hands.

"Well, they were pleased when I told them," said Chrissie, who looked slightly put out.

"Let them sleep," said Geri hastily. It was a few moments before I noticed that several of the first-years gathered around us bore unmistakeable signs of recent nosebleeds.

"Come here, Chrissie, and see if Olivia's old robes fit you," called Keith Ball, "we can take off her name and put yours on instead ..."

As Chrissie moved away, Andrew strode up to me.

"Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Pride-Lander," he said abruptly. "It's stressful this managing lark, you know, I'm starting to think I was a bit too hard on Cane sometimes." He watched Chrissie over the rim of his goblet with a slight frown on his face.

"Look, I know she's your best mate, but she's not fabulous," he said bluntly. "I think with a bit of training she'll be all right, though. She's related to a family of good Quidditch players. I'm banking on her turning out to have a bit more talent than she showed today, to be honest. Victor Throbbs and Geraldine Cooper both flew better this evening, but Cooper's a real whiner, she's always moaning about something or other, and Vick's involved in all sorts of societies. He admitted himself that if training clashed with his Charms Club, he'd put Charms first. Anyway, we're having a practice session at two o'clock tomorrow, so just make sure you're there this time. And do me a favour and help Chrissie as much as you can, OK?"

I nodded, and Andrew strolled back to Aaron Spinns. I moved over to sit next to Chris, who jerked awake and knocked Sian, who jumped up as I put down my bag.

"Oh, Kiara, it's you ... good about Chrissie, isn't it?" Sian said blearily. "I'm just so-so-so tired," she yawned. "I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!"

And sure enough, when I looked, I saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.

"Are you all right, Kiara?" said Chris, looking at me closely. "You look troubled."

I looked at them both, and saw the genuine concern in their eyes, so I said, "Listen, I was up in Umber's office just now and he touched my arm ..."

Chris and Sian listened closely. When I finished, Sian said slowly, "You're worried She-You-Know's controlling him just like she controlled Quarrell?"

"Well," I said, dropping my voice, "it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," said Sian, though she didn't sound convinced. "But I don't think she can be _possessing_ him the way she possessed Quarrell, I mean, she's properly alive again now, isn't she, she's got her own body, she wouldn't need to share someone else's. She could have his body under the Imperius Curse, I suppose ..."

I watched Tanya, Geri and Leah Jones juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment. Then Chris said, "But Kiara, last year your scar hurt when nobody touched you, and didn't Ma say it had to do with what She-You-Know was feeling at the time? I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umber at all, maybe it's just a coincidence it happened while you were with him?"

"He's evil," I said flatly. "Twisted."

"He's horrible, yes, but Kiara ... I think you ought to tell Ma your scar hurt."

That was the second time in two days that I had been advised to go to Crighton, and my answer to both Chris and Sian was just the same as my answer to Chrissie.

"I'm not bothering her with this. Like you just said, it's not a bog deal. It's been hurting on and off all summer - it was just a bit worse tonight, that's all - "

"Kiara, I'm sure Ma would _want_ to be bothered by this - " Sian began.

"Yeah," I said, before I could stop myself, "that's the only bit of me Crighton cares about, isn't it, my scar?"

"Don't you _dare_ say that, Kiara, because I know it's not true!"

"I think I'll write to my parents about it, see what they think - "

"Kiara, you can't put something like that in a letter!" said Sian, looking alarmed. "Don't you remember, Grumpy told us to be careful what we put in writing! We can't guarantee our owls aren't being intercepted any more!"

"All right, all right, I won't tell them, then!" I said irritably. I got to my feet. "I'm going to bed. Tell Chrissie for me, will you?"

"Oh no," said Sian, looking relieved, "if you're going that means I can go too, without being rude."

"Yeah, I'm going, too," said Chris, stretching. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," said Sian. "I want to make more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like. It's quite fun. I'm getting better; I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now."

I looked into her face, which shone with glee, and tried to look as though I was vaguely tempted by the offer.

"Er ... no, I don't think I will, thanks," I said. "Er - not tomorrow. I want to try and catch up on sleep ..."

And I traipsed off up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, leaving Sian looking slightly disappointed, and Chris looking at me with concern.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **Perdy, Leo and Leona - Part 1**

 **KIARA**

I was the first to awaken that Saturday morning. I lay awake for a moment watching the dust swirl in the ray of sunlight coming through the gap in my four poster's hangings, and just relished in the fact that my detentions with Umber were finished (well, for the time being, anyway), and that it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on for ever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson.

Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. I know that I had told Sian the night before that I had to catch up on sleep, but I remember feeling wide awake at that moment, so I pulled open the curtains around my bed, got up and started to dress. The only sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of my fellow Lion-Hearts. I opened my schoolbag carefully, pulled out parchment and quill and headed out of the dormitory for the common room.

I made straight for my favourite squashy old armchair beside the extinct fire, where I settled myself down comfortably and unrolled my parchment while I looked around the room. The detritus of crumpled-up bits of parchment, old Gobstones, empty ingredient jars and sweet wrappers that usually covered the common room at the end of each day were gone, as were all of Sian's elf hats. Vaguely, I wondered how many elves had been set free and whether they wanted to be set free or not, as I uncorked my ink bottle, dipped my quill into it, then held it suspended an inch above the smooth yellowish surface of my parchment, thinking hard ... but after a minute or so I found myself staring into an empty grate, at a complete loss for what to write.

It was only then that I appreciated how hard it must have been for Chris, Sian and Chrissie to write me letters that summer. I couldn't help but wonder how on earth I was supposed to tell my parents everything that had happened over the past week and, at the same time, pose all the questions I wanted answers to without giving potential letter-thieves a lot of information I did not want them to have.

I sat quite motionless for a while, just gazing into the fireplace for what felt like hours, before I came to a decision, dipped my quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely on the parchment.

 _Dear Leo and Leona,_

 _Hope you're OK, the first week back here's been terrible, I'm really glad it's the weekend._

 _We've got a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umber. He's nearly as nice as Tusks' mum. I'm writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umber._

 _We're all missing our biggest friend, we hope she'll be back soon._

 _Leo, send my regards to your mum and tell her about this, too._

 _Best to you both,_

 _Kiara_

I reread the letter several times, trying to see it from the point of view of an outsider. I found it hard to give my best wishes to Grandmother Sarabi and my parents, but to an outsider's eyes I thought that would have seemed odd, which was good, because I could not see how they would know what I was talking about - or who I was talking to - just from reading this letter. I did hope my parents would pick up on the hint about Mina and tell us when she might be back. I did not want to ask directly in case it drew too much attention to what Mina might be up to while she was not at Dragon Mort.

Considering it was a very short letter, it had taken a long time to write; sunlight had crept halfway across the room while I had been working on it, and I heard the distant sound of movement from the dormitories above. I sealed the parchment carefully before climbing through the portrait hole and headed off for the Owlery.

"I would not go that way, if I were you," said Nearly Headless Nicola, as she drifted disconcertingly through a wall ahead of me as I was walking down the passage. Weeves is planning an amusing joke on the next person to pass the bust of Paracelus halfway down the corridor."

"Does it involve Paracelus falling on top of the person's head?" I asked.

"Funnily enough, it _does_ ," said Nearly Headless Nicola in a bored voice. "Subtlety has never been Weeves' strongest point. I'm off to try and find the Bloody Baroness ... she might be able to put a stop to it ... see you, Kiara ..."

"Yeah, bye ..." I said, and instead of turning right, I turned left and took a longer but safer route up to the Owlery. My spirits rose as I walked past window after window, where I saw a brilliantly blue sky through each one; I had training later that day, I would be back on the Quidditch pitch at last.

Something brushed against my ankles. I looked down and saw the caretaker's skeletal grey cat, Mrs Robbs, slinking past me. She turned her lamplike yellow eyes on me for a moment before disappearing behind a statue of Winifred the Wise.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," I called after her. She had the unmistakeable air of a cat that was off to report to her boss, yet I couldn't see why; I was perfectly entitled to walk up to the Owlery on a Saturday morning.

The sun was high in the sky when I entered the Owlery, and the sunlight streaming in through the glassless windows dazzled my eyes; thick, silvery beams of light crisscrossed the circular room in which hundreds of owls nestled on rafters, a little restless in the early-morning light, some clearly having just returned from hunting. The straw-covered floor crunched a little as I stepped across tiny animal bones, craning my neck for a sight of Harold.

"There you are," I said, spotting him somewhere near the very top of the vaulted ceiling. "Get down here, I've got a letter for you."

With a low hoot he stretched his great white wings and soared down on to my shoulder.

"Right, I know this says Leo and Leona on the outside," I told him, as I gave him the letter to clasp in his beak and, without knowing exactly why, I whispered, "but it's for my parents, OK?"

He blinked his amber eyes once and I took that to mean that he understood.

"Safe flight, then," I said, and I carried him to one of the windows; with a moment's pressure on my arm, Harold took off into the blindingly bright sky. I watched him until he became a tiny black speck and vanished. I then switched my gaze to Mina's hut, which was visible from the window I was looking out of, which was clearly uninhabited, the chimney smokeless, the curtains drawn.

As I looked at Mina's cabin, I saw the treetops of the Black Forest swaying in a light breeze. I watched them, savouring the fresh air on my face, which made me think about the upcoming Quidditch practice ... and then I saw it. A great, reptilian winged horse, just like the ones that pulled the Dragon Mort carriages, with leathery black wings that were spread wide like a pterodactyl's, rising up out of the trees like a grotesque, giant bird. It soared in a great circle, then plunged back into the trees. The whole thing had happened so quickly that I couldn't believe what I had seen, except that my heart hammered madly.

The Owlery door opened behind me. I leapt in shock and, turning quickly, I saw that it was Khan Chan, holding a letter and a parcel in his hands.

"Hi," I said automatically.

"Oh ... hi," he said breathlessly. "I didn't think anyone would be up here this early ... I only remembered five minutes ago, it's my dad's birthday."

He held up the parcel.

"Right," was all I said. My brain seemed to have frozen, for all I wanted to do at that moment was say something that was witty and interesting, but I couldn't because the imprint of that flying horse was fresh in my mind (I'm telling you, it was times like those that I really wish that I had Sian's quick thinking).

"Nice day," I said, gesturing to the windows. My insides shrivelled with embarrassment at the obvious point I just made. The weather. Of all the things I could have chosen to talk about, I chose the _weather_. Genius ...

"Yeah," said Khan, who was looking around for a suitable owl. "Good Quidditch conditions. I haven't been out all week, have you?"

"No," I said.

Khan had selected one of the school's barn owls. He coaxed it down on to his arm where it held out an obliging leg so that he could attach the parcel.

"Has Lion-Heart got a new Keeper yet?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "It's my best friend, Chrissie Dawson. D'you know her?"

"The Tornados-hater?" said Khan coolly. "Is she any good?"

"Yeah," I said, "I think so. I didn't see her tryout, though. I was in detention."

Khan looked up, the parcel only half-attached to the owl's leg.

"That Umber man's fowl," he said in a low voice. "Putting you in detention just because you told the truth about how - how - how she died. Everyone heard about it, it was all over the school. You were really brave standing up to him like that."

My insides re-inflated at Khan's words that I felt at that moment as though I could've actually floated a few inches off the dropping-strewn floor. I didn't care about the stupid flying horse; the only thing that mattered to me was that Khan thought I had been really brave. For a moment I considered accidentally-on-purpose showing him my cut hand as I helped him tie his parcel on to his owl ... but the very instant this thrilling thought occurred, the Owlery door opened again (talk about not catching a break!).

Match the caretaker came wheezing into the room. There were purple patches on his sunken, veined cheeks, his jowls were aquiver and his thin grey hair dishevelled; obviously he had ran there. Mrs Robbs came trotting at his heels, gazing up at the owls overhead and mewing hungrily. There was a restless shifting of wings from above and a large brown owl snapped his beak in a menacing fashion.

"Aha!" said Match, taking a flat-footed step towards me, his pouchy cheeks trembling with anger. "I've had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order of Dungbombs!"

I folded my arms and stared at Match.

"Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?"

Khan looked from myself to Match, also frowning; the barn owl on his arm, tired of standing on one leg, gave an admonitory hoot, but he ignored it.

"I have my sources," said Match in a self-satisfied voice. "Now hand over whatever it is you're sending."

Feeling immensely thankful that I had not dawdled in posting off the letter, I said, "I can't, it's gone."

 _"Gone?"_ said Match, his face contorting with rage.

"Gone," I said calmly.

Match opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked my robes with his eyes (which, I know, sounds disgusting, but at least he's doesn't think of students in _that_ way).

"How do I know that you haven't got it in your pocket?"

"Because - "

"I saw her send it," said Khan angrily.

Match rounded on him.

"You saw her - ?"

"That's right, I saw her," he said fiercely.

There was a moment's pause in which Match glared at Khan and Khan glared right back, then the caretaker turned on his heel and shuffled back towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back at me.

"If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb ..."

He stumped off down the stairs. Mrs Robbs cast a last longing look at the owls and followed him.

Khan and I looked at each other. No one had ever stood up for me like that before this point.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," said Khan, finally fixing the parcel to the barn owl's other leg, his face slightly pink. "You _weren't_ ordering Dungbombs, were you?"

"No," I said.

"I wonder why he thought you were, then?" Khan said as he carried the owl to the window.

I shrugged. I was quite as mystified by that as he was, though oddly it didn't seem to bother me very much at that moment (and just so everyone knows, to this day I still don't know who "tipped Match off" about my "sending Dungbombs". Ridiculous.).

We left the Owlery together. At the entrance of a corridor that led to the west wing of the castle, Khan said, "I'm going this way. Well, I'll ... I'll see you around, Kiara."

"Yeah ... see you."

Khan smiled and before he departed, he stroked my cheek gently with his fingertips, making butterflies erupt in my stomach. And as quickly as the moment had come, it had gone, for Khan had turned and departed. I walked on, feeling quietly elated. I had managed to have an entire conversation with him, and I hadn't once embarrassed myself ... _you were really brave standing up to him like that_ ... Khan had called me brave ... he did not hate me for being alive ...

Of course, he had preferred Georgia, I knew that ... though if I'd only asked him to the Ball before Georgia had, things might have turned out differently ... he had seemed sincerely sorry that he'd had to refuse when I asked him ... but then, I thought about that touch that had just happened, and that made me giggle and skip ... and it also gave me hope ...

"Morning," I said brightly to Chris, Sian and Chrissie as I joined them at the Lion-Heart table in the Great Hall.

"What are you looking so please about?" said Chrissie, eyeing me in surprise.

"Erm ... Quidditch later," I said happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Chris didn't seem convinced.

"Oh ... yeah ..." said Chrissie. She put down the piece of toast she had been eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then she said, "Listen ... you don't fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to - er - give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit?"

"Yeah, OK," I said.

"Look, I don't think you should," said Sian seriously. "You've both still got a bit of homework to catch up on and - "

But she broke off; the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the _Daily Squabbler_ soared towards her in the back of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Sian pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.

"Anything interesting?" said Chrissie. Chris and I grinned, knowing Chrissie was keen to keep Sian off the topic of homework.

"No," she sighed, "just some stuff about the bass player in The Jinxters getting married."

Sian opened the paper and disappeared behind it. I helped myself to another helping of bacon and eggs. Chris jabbed moodily at his food, and Chrissie stared up at the high windows, looking slightly preoccupied.

"Wait a moment," said Sian suddenly. "Oh no ... Simba and Nala!"

"What happened?" I said, snatching the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with Sian and I holding a half each.

 _" "The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Simba and Nala Pride-Lander, the notorious mass murderers ... blah blah blah ... are currently hiding in London!" "_ Sian read from her half in an anguished whisper.

"Narissa Malty, I'll bet anything," I said in a low, furious voice. "She did recognise my parents in the Sub House ..."

"What?" said Chrissie, looking alarmed. "You didn't say - "

"Shh!" Chris, Sian and I said.

" ... _"Ministry warns wizarding community that the Pride-Landers are very dangerous ... killed fourteen people ... broke out of Azkaban ..."_ the usual rubbish," Sian concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looked fearfully at Chris, Chrissie and I. "Well, they just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all," she whispered. "Ma did tell them not to."

I looked down at the bit of the _Squabbler_ I had torn off. Most of the page was devoted to an advertisement for Si Waldin's Robes for All Occasions, which was having a sale.

"Hey!" I said, flattening it down so Chris, Sian and Chrissie could see it. "Look at this!"

"I've got all the robes I want, thanks," said Chris.

"No," I said. "Look ... this little piece here ..."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed right at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:

 _TREASPASS AT THE MINISTRY_

 _Simone Podds, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podds was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwitch Erin Mung, who found her attempting to force her way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podds, who refused to speak in her own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban._

"Simone Podds?" said Chrissie slowly. "She's that old woman who looks like her head's been thatched, isn't she? She's one of the Ord - "

"Chrissie, _shh_!" said Sian, casting a terrified look around us. _"Keep your voice down!"_

"Six months in Azkaban!" whispered Chris, shocked. "Just for trying to get through a door!"

"Don't be silly, Rickers, it wasn't just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was she doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o'clock in the morning?" breathed Sian.

"D'you reckon she was doing something for the Order?" Chrissie muttered.

"Wait a moment ..." I said slowly. "Simone was supposed to come and see us off, remember?"

My friends looked at me.

"Yeah, she was supposed to be part of the guard going to the Sub House, remember? And Grumpy was all annoyed because she didn't turn up, so she couldn't have been on a job for them, could she?"

"Well, maybe they didn't expect her to get caught," said Sian.

"It could be a frame-up!" Chrissie exclaimed excitedly. "No - listen!" she went on, dropping her voice dramatically at the threatening look on Sian's face. "The Ministry suspects she's one of Ma's lot so - I dunno - they _lured_ her to the Ministry, and she wasn't trying to get through the door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get her!"

There was a pause while Chris, Sian and I contemplated this. I thought it seemed far-fetched, to be honest. Chris and Sian, on the other hand, both looked rather impressed.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that were true."

Sian nodded. "It does seem plausible."

She folded up her half of the newspaper. As I lay down my knife and fork, she seemed to come out of her reverie.

"Right, well we've made a good start on our homework load already, but we've still got that essay for Spud on self-fertilising shrubs, and I hope that we'll be able to start Darbus' Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch."

I felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought of the pile of homework that awaited me upstairs, but the sky that day was a clear, exhilarating blue, and I had not been on my Firecracker once that week ...

"I mean, we can do it tonight," said Chrissie, as she and I walked down the sloping lawns towards the Quidditch pitch, our broomsticks over our shoulders, and with Sian's dire warnings that we would fail all our OWLs still ringing in our ears. "And we've got tomorrow. She gets too worked up about work, my sister does, that's her problem ..." There was a pause and she added, in a slightly more anxious tone, "D'you think she meant it when she said we weren't copying from her?"

"Yeah, I do," I said. "Still, this is important too, we've got to practice if we want to stay on the Quidditch team."

"Yeah, that's right," said Chrissie, in a heartened tone. "And we have got plenty of time to do it all ..."

As we approached the Quidditch pitch, I glanced over to my right to where the trees of the Black Forest were swaying darkly. Nothing flew out of them; the sky was empty but for a few distant owls that fluttered around the Owlery tower. I had enough to worry about; the flying horses weren't doing me any harm; I pushed it out of my mind.

We collected balls from the changing room and set to work, Chrissie guarding the three tall goalposts as I acted as Chaser, trying to get the Quaffle past Chrissie. I thought Chrissie was pretty good, to be honest; she blocked three-quarters of the goals I attempted to put past her and played better the longer we practiced. After an hour we returned to the castle for lunch - during which, Sian made it quite clear that she thought we were irresponsible, but Chris didn't seem to mind - then we returned to the Quidditch pitch for the real training session. All our teammates but Andrew were already in the changing room when we entered.

"All right, Chrissie?" said Geri, winking at her.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, who had become quieter and quieter all the way down to the pitch.

"Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?" said Tanya, emerging tousle-haired from the neck of her Quidditch robes, a slightly malicious grin on her face.

"Shut up," said Chrissie, stony-faced, pulling on her own robes for the first time. They fitted her well considering they had been Olivia Cane's, who was slightly taller.

"OK, everyone," said Andrew, emerging from the Captain's office, already changed. "Let's get to it; Aaron and Tanya, if you can bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching, but I want you to just ignore them, all right?"

Something in his would-be-casual voice made me think that I might know who the uninvited spectators were, and sure enough, when we left the changing room for the bright sunlight of the pitch it was to a storm of catcalls and jeers from the Snake-Eyes Quidditch team and assorted hangers-on, who were grouped halfway up the empty stands and whose voices echoed loudly around the stadium.

"What's that Dawson's riding?" Malty called in her sneering drawl. "Why would anyone buy a mouldy old log like that, when there are more impressive models out there - and I'm not just talking about my model!"

Crate, Gabber and Parry Parker guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Chrissie mounted her broom and kicked off from the ground and I followed her; as I drew nearer to her, I saw that her cheeks had turned a furious shade of red.

"Ignore them," I said beside her, "we'll see who's laughing when we play them ..."

"Exactly the attitude I want, Kiara," said Andrew approvingly, soaring around us with the Quaffle under his arms and slowing to hover on the spot in front of his airborne team. "OK, everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm us up, the whole team please - "

"Hey, Johnstone, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?" shrieked Parry Parker from below. "Why would anyone want to look like they've got fat, chunky worms coming out of their head?"

Andrew swept his dreadlocks out of his face and continued calmly, "Spread out, then, and let's see what we can do ..."

I reversed away from the others to the far side of the pitch. Chrissie fell back towards the opposite goal. Andrew raised the Quaffle and threw it hard to Tanya, who passed it to Geri, who passed it to me, which I passed to Chrissie, who dropped it.

The Snake-Eyes, all led by Malty, roared and screamed with laughter. Chrissie, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that she slipped sideways on her broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. I saw Tanya and Geri exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which I was grateful.

"Pass it on, Chrissie," called Andrew, as though nothing had happened.

Chrissie threw the Quaffle to Aaron, who passed back to me, and I threw it to Geri ...

"Hey, Pride-Lander, how's your scar feeling?" called Malty. "Sure you don't need a lie down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing; that's a record for you, isn't it?"

Geri passed to Andrew, he reverse-passed to me, which I wasn't expecting, and I just managed to catch it in the very tips of my fingers, and I passed it quickly to Chrissie, who lunged for it and missed by inches.

"Come on now, Chrissie," said Andrew crossly, as she dived for the ground again, chasing the Quaffle. "Pay attention."

It would have been hard to say whether Chrissie's face or the Quaffle was a deeper scarlet when she again returned to playing height. Malty and the rest of the Snake-Eyes team howled with laughter.

On her third attempt, Chrissie caught the Quaffle; perhaps out of relief she passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight through Keith's outstretched hands and hit him hard in the face.

"Sorry!" Chrissie groaned, zooming forwards to see whether she had done any damage.

"Get back in position, he's fine!" barked Andrew. "But as you're passing to a teammate, do try not to knock him off his broom, won't you? We've got Bludgers for that!"

Keith's nose was bleeding. Down below, the Snake-Eyes were stamping their feet and jeering. Tanya and Geri converged on Keith.

"Here, take this," Tanya told him, handing him something small, round and red from out of his pocket, "it'll clear it up in no time."

"All right," said Andrew, "Tanya, Geri, go and get your bats and a Bludger. Chrissie, get up to the goalposts. Kiara, release the Snitch when I say so. We're going to aim for Chrissie's goal, obviously."

I zoomed off after the twins for the Snitch.

"Chrissie's making a right pig's ear of things, isn't she?" muttered Geri, as the three of us landed at the crate containing the balls and opened it to extract one of the Bludgers and the Snitch.

"She's just nervous," I said, "she was fine when I was practicing with her this morning."

"Yeah, well, I hope she hasn't peaked too soon," said Tanya gloomily.

We returned to the air. When Andrew blew the whistle, I released the Snitch and Tanya and Geri let fly the Bludger. From that moment on, I was barely aware of what the others were doing. It was my job to recapture the tiny fluttering golden ball that was worth a hundred and fifty points to the Seeker's team, and doing so required enormous speed and skill. I accelerated, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, the warm autumn air whipping my face, and the distant yells of the Snake-Eyes so much meaningless roaring in my ears ... but too soon, the whistle brought me to a halt again.

"Stop - _stop_ \- STOP!" screamed Andrew. "Chrissie - you're not covering your middle post!"

I looked around at Chrissie, who was hovering in front of the left-hand hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected.

"Oh ... sorry ..."

"You keep shifting around while you're watching the Chasers!" said Andrew. "Either stay in centre position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don't drift vaguely off to one side, that's how you let in the last three goals!"

"Sorry ..." Chrissie repeated, her red face shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky.

"And Keith, can't you do something about that nosebleed?"

"It's just getting worse!" said Keith thickly, attempting to stem the flow with his sleeve.

I glanced round at Tanya, who looked anxious and checked her pockets. I saw Tanya pull out something black, examine it for a second and then looked round at Keith, evidently horror-stricken.

"Well, let's try again," said Andrew. He ignored the Snake-Eyes who were singing a chant of _"Lion-Heart are losers, Lion-Heart are losers,"_ but there was a certain rigidity about his seat on the broom nevertheless.

After that, we had been flying barely three minutes when Andrew's whistle sounded. I had sighted the Snitch, which was circling the opposite goalpost, so when I pulled up I felt slightly aggrieved.

"What now?" I said impatiently to Aaron, who was nearest.

"Keith," he said shortly.

I turned and saw Andrew, Tanya and Geri flying as fast as they could towards Keith. Aaron and I sped towards him, too. It was plain that Andrew had stopped training just in time; Keith was chalk white and covered in blood.

"He needs the hospital wing," said Andrew.

"We'll take him," said Tanya. "He - er - might have been sucking on a Blood-Gushing Gobstopper by mistake - "

"Well, there's no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone," said Andrew glumly as Tanya and Geri zoomed of towards the castle, supporting Keith between them. "Come on, let's go and get changed."

The Snake-Eyes continued to chant as we trailed back into the changing rooms.

As Chrissie and I left and were walking towards the school, we heard a voice behind us say softly, "I'm sorry about my cousin."

Chrissie and I spun around. It was Rea-Bradley, who was on her own and looked miserable. She gazed at me with desperate eyes, as though she was silently asking me to listen to her. Chrissie and I both looked at her cautiously, for even though we had seen and heard her change from afar, we weren't exactly sure ourselves that she had changed sides. Keziah saw this, as she took a deep breath and began to talk.

"Look, I don't want to fight," she said softly. "I am genuinely sorry about my cousin's behaviour towards you, as well as her gang. If it were up to me, she wouldn't be speaking that way at all. I've tried talking to her, but she doesn't listen to me. She won't look at me any more, never mind talk to me. I _hate_ it. We were once so close - like sisters, we were - but then ..." Rea-Bradley took a deep breath and continued, "Look, I understand if you don't want to speak to me - I mean, after the way I treated you and Chrissie and the others, Kiara, it wouldn't surprise me - but do you think you could find it in your hearts to forgive me? I'm not saying you have to do it right away. I just want you to think about it ..."

She gave us a swift smile and walked away. Chrissie and I looked at each other, both of us thinking the exact same thing: could we trust her? She was Dani Malty's cousin, after all. They were in the same house and shared the same dormitory. What if she was just using us? But then I remembered how she hadn't been with Malty and her crew down at the pitch, and how truly miserable she looked talking to us, not to mention all the times the previous year when she had looked at me apologetically and tried to stand up for me, and that made my decision clear, but I had to make sure Chrissie was on the same page I was.

Chrissie and I looked at each other. I nodded my head at her. She paused for a moment, before she nodded her head slowly in agreement. I nodded back at her once, before I turned back to Keziah's retreating back and called, "Keziah?"

She stopped, turned back around and came towards us. Once she was within hearing distance, she said nervously, "Yes?"

I held out a hand to her and said, "If you ever need to talk, you know where to find us."

Keziah blinked twice in surprise, then smiled a smile of pure joy, grasped my hand firmly and said, "Thank you." We then let go of hands and she turned to Chrissie. "Can you do me a favour?"

Chrissie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Yes?" she said slowly.

"Can you tell Sian I forgive her for breaking my nose two years ago?"

Whatever Chrissie and I expected to hear from her, this was not it. "Yeah, s-sure," Chrissie stuttered. "Erm ... what - why?"

Keziah just shrugged and said, "It was what I needed to see what was going on around me properly. See you later." And with that, Keziah left Chrissie and I standing stunned.

0000

"How was practice?" Sian asked rather coldly ten minutes later, as Chrissie and I climbed through the portrait hole into the Lion-Heart common room.

"It was - " I began.

"Completely lousy," said Chrissie in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Sian. She and Chris both looked at Chrissie, and Sian's frostiness seemed to melt.

"Well, it was only your first one," she said consolingly. "It's bound to take time to - "

"Who said it was me who made it lousy?" snapped Chrissie.

"No one," said Sian, looking taken aback, "I thought - "

"You, _my own sister_ , naturally thought I was bound to be rubbish, didn't you?"

"Come on, Chrissie, Sian didn't mean it like that," said Chris, but Chrissie didn't listen.

"I'm going to get started on some homework," said Chrissie angrily, and she stomped off up the staircase to the girls' dormitories. Sian tried to call her back, but it was to no effect.

Sian sighed and said, "I'd better go after her."

"Do you have to?" I asked, as Sian stood up.

Sian smiled at me and said, "Oh yes, Kiara. It's one of the burdens of being the oldest; you see, when our parents aren't around, I'm always the one who has to pick up the pieces and be there for everyone." She then ran after Chrissie.

Chris turned to me.

" _Was_ Chrissie lousy?"

"No," I said loyally.

Chris raised his eyebrows.

"Well, I suppose she could've played better," I muttered, "but it was the first training session, like Sian said. Oh, and you'll never believe what happened after it ..."

And so I told Chris about mine and Chrissie's brief meeting with Keziah. He listened carefully all the way through, albeit a little sceptically, I could tell. Anyhoo, he waited until I had finished to speak.

"So, you and Chrissie believe she's changed?" said Chris sceptically. "You do know we're talking about Malty's cousin, right?"

"Of course I do, Chris, but you didn't see her. She looked miserable and lonely. Malty and her band of Snake-Eyes have all abandoned her because she's standing up for us. Keziah's asked us to forgive her, and we have - she even asked us to tell Sian that she forgives her for breaking her nose two years ago!"

"Really?" said a surprised voice behind us. Chris and I looked round. Sian had come back in with an arm wrapped around Chrissie, who looked a little bit upset, but Sian must have said something, for Chrissie certainly looked less angrier than she did a few minutes prior to this. Sian was looking at us with interest about what Keziah had said.

"Yeah. She said it was just the thing she needed to see what was going on around her clearly, and then she went off," I said.

"Well, Sian, it seems that the thing you did wrong finally made a right," said Chris teasingly.

"Oh, please, Chris, I didn't intend for this to happen," said Sian, "but if that's all it took for her to change, then good for her. "Now, on to your homework piles ..."

Neither Chrissie or I seemed to make much headway with our homework that Saturday night. I knew Chrissie was too preoccupied with how badly she had performed at Quidditch practice, and as for me, I was having trouble trying to get the _"Lion-Heart are losers"_ chant out of my head.

We spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in books while the room around us filled up, then emptied. It was another clear, fine day, and most of our fellow Lion-Hearts spent the day out in the grounds, enjoying what might well have been some of the last sunshine that year had to offer us. By that evening, I felt as though somebody had been beating my brain against the inside of my skull.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

 **Perdy, Leo and Leona - Part 2**

 **KIARA**

"You know, we should probably try and get more homework done during the week," I muttered to Chrissie, as we finally laid aside Professor Darbus' essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell and turned miserably to Professor Comet's equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter's many moons.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing her fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside us. "Listen ... shall we just ask Sian if we can have a look at what she's done?"

I glanced over at her; she was sitting with Lucifer on her lap, chatting merrily to Chris, Merida and Dave, as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks.

"No," I said heavily, "you know she won't let us."

And so we worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker. Slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half past eleven, Chris and Sian wandered over to us, both of them yawning.

"Nearly done?" said Chris.

"No," said Chrissie shortly.

"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto," Sian said, pointing over Chrissie's shoulder at a line in the Astronomy essay, "and it's Io that's got the volcanoes."

"Thanks," snarled Chrissie, scratching out the offending sentences.

"Sorry, I only - "

"Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticise - "

"Chrissie - "

"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Sian, I'm up to my neck in it here - "

"No - look!"

Sian pointed to the nearest window. Chris, Chrissie and I looked over. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Chrissie.

"Isn't that Hera?" said Sian, sounding amazed.

"Blimey, it is!" said Chrissie quietly, throwing down her quill and getting to her feet. "What's Perdy writing to me for?"

"It's a mystery to us all, to be honest," said Chris, as Chrissie crossed to the window and opened it; Hera flew inside, landed on Chrissie's essay and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Chrissie took the letter off it and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Chrissie's drawing of the moon Io.

"That's definitely Perdy's handwriting," said Chrissie, sinking back into the chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: _Christina Dawson, Lion-Heart House, Dragon Mort_. She looked up at Chris, Sian and I. "What d'you reckon?"

"Open it!" said Sian eagerly, and Chris and I nodded.

Chrissie unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further down the parchment her eyes travelled, the more pronounced became her scowl. When she had finished reading, she looked disgusted. She thrust the letter towards Chris, Sian and I. The three of us leaned closer and read it together:

 _Dear Chrissie,_

 _I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic herself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umber) that you have become a Dragon Mort Prefect._

 _I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the "Tanya and Geri" route, rather than following mine - or, indeed - Sian's footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility._

 _But I want to give you more than congratulations, Chrissie, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions._

 _From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a Prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Kiara Pride-Lander. I must tell you, Chrissie, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternisation with that girl. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this - no doubt you will say that Pride-Lander's always been Crighton's favourite, along with Sian - but I feel bound to tell you that Crighton may not be in charge at Dragon Mort much longer and the people who count have a very different - and probably more accurate - view of Pride-Lander's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the_ Daily Squabbler _tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing - and see if you can spot yours truly!_

 _Seriously, Chrissie, you and my cousins do not want to be tarred with the same branch as Pride-Lander, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that Uncle Matt escorted her to court, Pride-Lander had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot, and she did not come out of it looking too good. She got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of her guilt._

 _It may be that you, Chris, Sian and my other cousins are afraid to sever ties with Pride-Lander - I know that she can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent (which wouldn't surprise me, knowing what type of people her parents are) - but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Pride-Lander's behaviour that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Democritus Umber, a truly delightful man I know will only be too happy to advise you._

 _This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Crighton's regime at Dragon Mort may soon be over. I know she's your mother, Chrissie, but your loyalty should not be to her, but to the school and the Ministry. I am sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umber is encountering very little co-operation as he strives to make those necessary changes within Dragon Mort that the Ministry so ardently desires (although he should find this easier from this week - again, see the_ Daily Squabbler _tomorrow!). I shall say only this - a student who shows herself willing to help Professor Umber now may be very well-placed for Head Girlship in a couple of years!_

 _I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise my aunt and uncle, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while Crighton is inviting a dangerous crowd to the place. (If you are writing to Uncle Matt at any point, you might tell her that a certain Simone Podds, who is a great friend of Crighton's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the type of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people - the Minister really could not be more generous to me - and I do hope, Chrissie, that you, Chris, Sian and my other cousins will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of my aunt and uncle's beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

 _Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Kiara Pride-Lander, and congratulations again on becoming Prefect, and give Sian and Chris my congratulations on becoming Prefects, too._

 _Your dear cousin,_

 _Perdy_

I looked up at Chrissie.

"Well," I said, trying to sound as though I found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to - er - what is it?" - I checked Perdy's letter - "Oh yeah - "sever ties" with me, I swear I won't get violent."

"Give it back," said Chrissie, holding out her hand. "She is -," Chrissie said jerkily, tearing Perdy's letter in half "the world's -" she tore it into quarters "biggest -" she tore it into eights _"cow."_ She threw the pieces into the fire.

"I never thought I'd speak against Perdy, but for once I believe I must," said Sian, who looked furious. "I mean, she actually wants us to betray Ma and Kiara and be faithful to Umber and the Ministry? I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen any time soon. Sure, I want to be Head Girl someday, but I will never jeopardise what I have with my family for my ambitions! _Never!_ " she finished firmly.

"Come on, we've got to get this finished sometime before dawn," Chrissie said briskly to me after a few moments, pulling Professor Comet's essay back towards her.

Sian looked at Chrissie sympathetically.

"Oh, give them here," she said abruptly.

"What?" said Chrissie.

"Give them to me, and I'll look through and correct them for you," she said.

"Are you serious? Ah, Sian, you're a life-saver," said Chrissie, "what can I - ?"

"What you can say is, "We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again," " she said, holding out her hands for our essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same.

"Thanks a million, Sian," I said weakly, as I passed over my essay and sank back into my armchair, rubbing my eyes.

"That's really nice of you, Sian," said Chris, surprised. "I didn't know you - "

"Yeah, well," said Sian, as she started looking over Chrissie's essay, "Perdy's letter's given me some insight about how important family is, in a way."

It was past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the four of us and Lucifer. The only sound was that of Sian's quill scratching out sentences here and there on our essays and the ruffle of pages as she checked various facts in the reference books that were strewn across the table. I was exhausted. I also felt an odd, sick, empty feeling in my stomach that had nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with the letter that was curling blackly in the heart of the fire.

I knew that half the people inside Dragon Mort at the time thought me strange, even mad; I knew that the _Daily Squabbler_ had been making snide allusions to me for months, but there was something about seeing it written down like that in Perdy's writing, about knowing that Perdy was advising Chris, Sian, Chrissie and the rest of the Dawsons to drop me and even to tell tales about me to Umber, and that made my situation real to me as nothing else had. I had known Perdy for four years up to this point, she and her sister had stayed with the Dawsons and I at Dawson Manor the summer prior to these events, shared a tent with her during the Quidditch Friendly, I had been awarded full marks by her in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament in my fourth year, yet at that point in my life, Perdy thought of me as unbalanced and possibly violent.

And with a surge of sympathy for my parents, I thought they were the only people I knew who really understood how I felt at that moment, because my parents were in the same situation. Nearly everyone in the wizarding world assumed that my parents were dangerous murderers and great Zira supporters and they had to live with that knowledge for fourteen years ...

I blinked. I had seen something in the fire that could not have been there. It had flashed into sight and vanished immediately. No ... it could not have been ... I had clearly imagined it because I had been thinking of my parents ...

"OK, write that down," Sian said to Chrissie, pushing her essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Chrissie, "then add the conclusion I've written for you."

"Sian, you're the best sister a girl could ever wish for," said Chrissie weakly, "and if I'm ever rude to you again - "

" - I'll know you're back to normal," said Sian. "Kiara, yours is OK except for this bit at the end; I think you must have misheard Professor Comet, for Europa's covered in ice, not mice - Kiara?"

I had slid off my chair on to my knees and I was crouched on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.

"Er - Kiara?" said Chris uncertainly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, gazing at the flames.

"Good, good," said Chrissie, her tone clearly expression anxiety about my sanity. "Why are you down there?"

"Because I've just seen my parents' heads in the fire," I said.

I spoke quite calmly; after all, I had seen my parent's heads in that very fire in my fourth year and talked to them, too; nevertheless, I wasn't sure that I had seen them that time ... they had vanished so quickly ...

"Your parents' heads?" Sian repeated. "You mean like when they wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But they wouldn't do that now, it would be too - _Simba! Nala!_ "

She gasped, gazing at the fire; Chris jumped and Chrissie dropped her quill. There in the middle of the dancing flames sat both my parents' heads, my father's long, dark hair falling around his anxious yet caring face, and my mother's equally long but light - though you'd never know it by the fire - hair falling around her grinning one.

"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," she said. "We've been checking every hour - one head at a time, of course."

"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" I said, half-laughing.

"Just for a few seconds to see if the coast was clear."

"But what if you'd been seen?" said Sian anxiously.

"Well, I think a boy - first-year, by the look of him - might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," my father said hastily, as Sian clapped a hand to her mouth, "I was gone the moment he looked back at me and I'll bet he thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."

"But Simba, Nala, this is taking an awful risk - " Sian began.

"You sound like Sarabi," said Mum. "This was the only way we could come up with answering Kiara's letter without resorting to code - and codes are breakable. That's why Sarabi's not writing a reply. Of course, Simba didn't want to do this at first, but after a little persuasion from me - not to mention how much he wanted to see our daughter as much as I did - he agreed, and here we are."

Chris, Sian and Chrissie ignored the last part of my mum's little speech, for at the mention of my letter, they turned to stare at me.

"You didn't say you'd written to your parents!" said Sian accusingly.

"I forgot," I said, which was perfectly true; my meeting with Khan in the Owlery had driven everything before it out of my mind. "Don't look at me like that, Sian, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Daddy?"

"No, it was very good," said my father, smiled. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed - your scar."

"What about - ?" Chrissie began, but Sian interrupted her.

"We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Simba Nala."

"Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"

"Yeah, and Crighton said it happened whenever Zira was feeling a powerful emotion," I said, ignoring, as usual, Chris, Sian and Chrissie's winces. "So maybe she was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."

"Well, now she's back it's bound to hurt more often," my father said.

"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umber touching me when I was in detention with him?" I asked.

"Your father and I doubt it, Kiara," said Mum. "We know him by reputation and we're sure he's no Love Destroyer - "

"He's foul enough to be one," I said darkly, and Chris, Sian and Chrissie nodded vigorously in agreement.

"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Love Destroyers," said Mum with a wry smile. "We know he's a piece of work, though - you should hear Timon talking about him."

"Does Meers know him?" I said quickly, as I then remembered Umber's comments about dangerous half-breeds during his first lesson.

"No," said my father, "but he helped to draft a new anti-werewolf legislation that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."

I remembered how much shabbier Meers looked and my dislike of Umber deepened further.

"What's he got against werewolves?" said Sian angrily.

"Scared of them, I expect," said Mum, she and my father both smiling at her indignation. "Apparently, he loathes part-humans; he campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kleaner on the lose."

Chris and Chrissie laughed but Sian looked upset.

"Nala!" she said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you and Pumbaa made a bit of an effort with Kleaner, I'm sure she'd respond. After all, Pumbaa's the only member of his family she's got left, and my mother said - "

"So, what are Umber's lessons like?" Mum interrupted her; my father looked at her, his eyes narrowed slightly in contempt. "Is he training you all to kill half-breeds?"

"No," I said, ignoring Sian's affronted look at being cut off in her defence of Kleaner. "He's not letting us use magic at all!"

"All we do now is read out of a stupid textbook," said Chris.

"Ah, well, that figures," said my father. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Sweets doesn't want you trained in combat."

 _"Trained in combat!"_ I said incredulously. "What does she think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"

"That's exactly what she thinks you're doing," said my father, "or, rather, that's what she's afraid Crighton's doing, forming her own private army, with which she will be able to take over the Ministry of Magic."

There was a pause at this, then Chrissie said, "That's the most stupidest thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Lincoln Lovedream comes out with."

"So, we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Sweets is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" said Sian, looking furious.

"I'm afraid so," said Mum. "Sweets thinks Crighton will stop at nothing to seize power. She's getting more paranoid about Crighton by the day. It's a matter of time before she has Crighton arrested on some trumped-up charge."

This reminded me of Perdy's letter.

"Daddy, d'you know if there's going to be anything about Crighton in the _Daily Squabbler_ tomorrow? Sian's cousin Perdy reckons there will be - "

"I don't know," my father said, "we haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been us and Kleaner here - oh, and Pumbaa drops back home when he can to check on us ..."

At the mention of Kleaner, a look of bitterness crossed my mother's face.

"So you haven't heard any news about Mina, either?"

"Ah ..." said Mum, "well, we know she was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what happened to her." Then, seeing our stricken faces, she added quickly, "But Crighton's not worried, so don't you four get yourselves in a state; we're sure Mina's fine."

"But if she was supposed to be back by now ..." said Sian in a small, anxious voice.

"Monsieur Legrand was with her, we've been in touch with him and he says that they got separated on their journey home - but there's nothing to suggest she's hurt or - well, nothing to suggest she's not perfectly OK."

Unconvinced, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I exchanged worried looks.

"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Mina," said my father hastily, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that she's not back and Nala and I both know that Crighton doesn't want that. Mina's tough, she'll be OK."

When we didn't appear cheered by this, Mum said, "When's your next Dragsmede weekend, anyway? I've been thinking, we got away with our dog disguises at the Sub House, didn't we? I thought Simba and I could - "

"NO!" said Chris, Sian and I together, very loudly.

"Simba, Nala, didn't either of you read the _Daily Squabbler_?" said Sian anxiously.

"Oh, that," said Mum, grinning, "they're always guessing where we are, but they haven't really got a clue - "

"Yeah, but we think this time they have," I said. "Something Malty said on the sub made us think she knew it was you two, and her mother was in the Sub House, Mum - you know, Narissa Malty - so don't come here, whatever you do. If Malty recognises you again - "

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Mum. She looked most displeased. "Just an idea; thought you might like to get together."

"I would, Mum, I just don't want my parents to get chucked back in Azkaban again!" I said.

There was a pause in which my mother looked out of the fire at me, a crease between her sunken eyes.

"You're less like me than I thought, Kiara," she said finally, a definite coolness in her voice. "The risk is what I find makes it fun."

"Mum - "

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kleaner coming down the stairs," said Mum, but I was sure she was lying. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back to the fire then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

And before I could say anything to her, there was a tiny _pop_ , and the place where my mother's head had been was flickering flame once more.

I sighed sadly and shook my head, looking down at the hearthrug. I was so sure she would have understood my concern, but apparently I was wrong. I had forgotten, however, that my rational-thinking father was still there.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to her," I heard my father say. I lifted my head, and saw his face smiling with sympathy and love.

"You will? Oh, thank you, Daddy!" I said gratefully.

My father chuckled and said, "You're welcome, Princess. Unlike your mother, I understand and agree with you perfectly. But just so you know, we are your parents, Kiara. It's our job to take care of and be concerned for you, not the other way around, all right?"

I knew he was right, so I smiled slightly and said, "I'll try. I love you, Daddy. Give my love to Mum for me, will you?"

My father smiled, nodded and said, "I will. I love you, too, Princess." There was then another tiny _pop_ , and my father's head was gone, and the fire was whole once more.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **The Dragon Mort High Inquisitor**

 **KIARA**

We had expected to comb through Sian's _Daily Squabbler_ carefully the next morning to find the article Perdy had mentioned in her letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Sian let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Democritus Umber, smiling widely and blinking slowly at us from beneath the headline:

 _MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM_

 _DEMOCRITUS UMBER APPOINTED_

 _SECOND EVER HIGH INQUISITOR_

"Umber - "High Inquisitor"?" I said darkly, my half-eaten piece of toast slipping from my fingers. "What does _that_ mean?"

Sian read aloud:

 _"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation, giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Dragon Mort Magical Academy._

 _" "The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Dragon Mort for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Perdy Fang. "She is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."_

 _"This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelia Sweets, had used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Forty-four was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmistress being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person._

 _" "That's how Democritus Umber came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Dragon Mort," said Fang last night. "Crighton couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umber, and of course, he's been an immediate success - " "_

"He's been a WHAT?" I said loudly

"Wait, there's more," said Sian grimly.

 _" " - an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Dragon Mort."_

 _"It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Forty-five, which creates the new position of Dragon Mort High Inquisitor._

 _" "This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Dragon Mort," said Fang. "The Inquisitor will have powers to impact his fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umber has been offered this position in addition to his own teaching post and we are delighted to say he has accepted."_

 _"The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Dragon Mort._

 _" "I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Crighton is being subjected to fair and objective criticism," said Mrs Narissa Malty, 41, speaking from her Gloucestershire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Crighton's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."_

 _"Among those_ eccentric decisions _are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Timon Meers, half-giantess Mina Wickes and delusioned ex-Auror, "Crazy-Head" Grumpy._

 _"Rumours bound, of course, that Susan Crighton, once Chief Witch of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Dragon Mort._

 _" "I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Dragon Mort has a headmistress in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night._

 _"Wizengamot Gerald Marches and Tabatha Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Dragon Mort._

 _" "Dragon Mort is a school, not an outpost of Cornelia Sweets' office," said Sir Marches. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Susan Crighton and her family."_

 _"(For a full account of Sir Marches' alleged links to subversive faun groups, turn to page seventeen.)"_

Sian finished reading and looked across the table at Chris, Chrissie and I.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umber! Sweets passed this "Educational Decree" and forced him on us! And now she's given him the power to inspect the other teachers!" Sian was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this! It's _outrageous!_ "

"I know it is," I said. I looked down at my right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umber had forced me to cut into my skin. A feeling of unadulterated anger coursed through me and made my blood boil.

But a grin was unfurling on Chrissie's face.

"What?" said Chris, Sian and I together, staring at her.

"Oh, I can't wait to see Darbus inspected," said Chrissie happily. "Umber won't know what's hit him."

"Well, come on," said Sian, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if he's going to be inspecting Boggles' class we don't want to be late ..."

But Umber wasn't there when we arrived for Muggle Studies. Diagrams of Muggle appliances, such as microwaves, radios and car batteries were plastered around every wall, and appliances such as computers, PlayStations and televisions were displayed on boxes around the room, too. Professor Boggles, a large man with broad shoulders, square face, pale-blue eyes and a warm smile greeted us warmly as usual.

"So, fifth-years," he began, "this year is very important. Yes, your OWLs will take place. Most of you will not come back next year, but I hope that you will have learned something to help you sympathise with Muggles. But for now, though, I just want you to study hard and try your best, for at the end of the day, that's all you can do.

"Now, this term we will be studying something Muggles call the Internet - not necessarily how it works, but why it is important to Muggles and the dangers that can come from overusage. So, why is the Internet important to Muggles?"

To no one's surprise, Sian's hand jumped straight into the air. Professor Boggles nodded at her.

"It's because there's some much information out there for Muggles to process," she said, "such as recipes, looking at social media, looking for stuff on Google, and many other things. But it can be dangerous, just like you said, Professor; there are cyber hackers out there, looking for people's information and credit details out there. They could be anyone, they could be anywhere. They could pretend to be people who will lie about their identities, locations and age on-line - which is another term for the Internet, by the way. And let's not even start on computer viruses - "

At this, many people around me panicked, started taking out their phones and smashed them to the ground, trying to destroy them. Professor Boggles had to calm people down, telling us that we had nothing to worry about, for the viruses would just harm the disease, not us. A few people looked apprehensive, and picked up their phones carefully, not wanting to touch them, and even after their phone were put away they still looked nervous at the thought of computer viruses.

Once the class was near enough settled, Professor Boggles spoke again, who looked very impressed at Sian's knowledge.

"Very good, Sian. Ten points to Lion-Heart. So what Sian said is true, Muggles do use the Internet for research, but there are precautions when using the Internet - " A girl with blonde hair and buck teeth raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Rimmer?"

"Sir, what's Google?"

Over the next hour and a half, we discussed the Internet, email sites (and yes, we also got a good explanation about Google), and our homework for that night was twelve inches of parchment on the Internet and how it effects Muggles on a day-to-day basis. And that's all the exciting things that happened on Monday, so let's move on to Tuesday.

0000

Professor Umber was not inspecting our History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Tuesday, nor was he in Triphorm's dungeon when we arrived for double Potions, where my moonstone essay was handed back to me with a large, spiky black "D" scrawled in an upper corner.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Triphorm with a smirk, as she swept among us, passing back our homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."

Triphorm reached the front of the class and turned on her heel to face us.

"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a "D"."

She smirked as Dani Malty sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a "D"? Ha!"

I then realised that Sian was looking sideways to see what grade I had received; I slid my moonstone essay back into my bag as quickly as possible, feeling that I would rather keep that information private (which isn't exactly easy when you have a friend like Sian, who pretty much always knows what's going on).

I was determined not to give Triphorm an excuse to fail me that lesson, so I read and re-read every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before I acted on them. My Strengthening Solution was not exactly the clear shade of turquoise of Sian's, but it was at least blue and not pink, like Nikita's, and I delivered a flask of it to Triphorm's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.

"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Sian, as we climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made our way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"

When Chris, Chrissie and I didn't answer, she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if she's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"

I made a non-committal noise in my throat.

"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on ..."

We sat down together at the Lion-Heart table.

"Obviously, I'd have been _thrilled_ if I got an "O" - "

"Sian," said Chrissie sharply, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."

"I don't - I didn't mean - if you want to tell me - "

"I got an "A"," said Chris, as he and Chrissie ladled soup into their bowls.

"Well, that's not so bad, Rickers," said Sian. "You got the same as me. "Chrissie, how about - ?"

"I got a "P". Happy?"

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Tanya, who had just arrived at the table with Geri and Leah Jones and was sat on my right. "Nothing wrong with a good, healthy "P"."

"But," said Sian, "doesn't "P" stand for ..."

" "Poor", yeah," said Leah Jones. "Still, better than a "D", isn't it? "Dreadful"?"

I felt my face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over my roll. When I emerged from this, I was sorry to find that Sian was still in full flow about OWL grades.

"So top grade's "O" for "Outstanding"," she was saying, "and then there's "A" - "

"No, "E"," Geri corrected her, "E" for "Exceeds Expectations". And I've always thought Tanya and I should've got "E" in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."

We all laughed except for Sian, who ploughed on, "So, after "E" it's "A" for "Acceptable", and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," said Tanya, as she dunked an entire roll in her soup, transferred it to her mouth and swallowed it whole.

"Then you get "P" for "Poor" - " Chrissie raised both her arms in mock celebration - "and "D" for "Dreadful"."

"And then "T"," Geri reminded her.

" "T"?" asked Chris. Sian looked appalled. "Even lower than a "D"? What on earth does "T" stand for?"

" "Troll"," said Geri promptly.

I laughed again (I really wished I hadn't), though I was not sure whether or not Geri was joking (she wasn't). I imagined trying to conceal from Sian that I had received "T"s in all my OWLs and immediately resolved to work harder from that moment on.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Tanya asked us.

"No," said Sian at once. "Have you?"

"Just now, before lunch," said Geri. "Charms."

"What was it like?" Chris, Sian and I asked together.

Tanya shrugged.

"Not that bad. Umber just lurked in a corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Winds is like, she treated him like a guest, didn't seem to bother her at all. He didn't say much. Asked Aaron a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Aaron told him they were really good, that was it."

"I can't see old Winds getting marked down," said Geri, "she usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Tanya asked me.

"Crystals - "

"A "T" if ever I saw one."

" - and Umber himself."

"Well, be a good girl and keep your temper today," said Geri. "Andrew'll do his nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

But I did not have to wait for Defence Against the Dark Arts to meet Professor Umber. I was pulling out my dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Chrissie elbowed me in the ribs and, looking around, I saw Professor Umber emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Crystals, who had been wafting about handing out copies of _The Dream Oracle_ , look round.

"Good afternoon, Professor Crystals," said Professor Umber with his wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving you the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Crystals nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned his back on Professor Umber and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umber grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Crystals' seat. He then sat down, took his clipboard from his duck-patterned satchel and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Crystals pulled his scarves tight around him with slightly trembling hands and surveyed us all through his hugely magnifying lenses.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," he said in a brave attempt at his mystic tones, though his voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest night-time visions with the aid of the _Oracle_."

He made as though to sweep back to his seat, saw Professor Umber sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Perry and Larry, who were deep in discussion about Perry's recent dream.

I opened my copy of _The Dream Oracle_ , watching Umber covertly as I did so. He was already making notes on his clipboard. After a few minutes he got to his feet and began to pace the room in Crystals' wake, listening to his conversations with students and posing questions here and there. I bent my head hurriedly over my book.

"Think of a dream, quick," I told Chrissie, "in case the old toad comes our way."

"I did it last time," Chrissie protested, "it's your turn, you tell me one."

"Oh, I dunno ..." I said desperately, for I didn't remember dreaming anything those last few days. "Let's say I dreamed I was ... drowning Triphorm in my cauldron. Yeah, that'll do ..."

Chrissie chortled as she opened her _Dream Oracle_.

"OK, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject ... would that be "drowning" or "cauldron" or Triphorm"?"

"It doesn't matter, pick any of them," I said, chancing a quick glance behind me. Professor Umber now stood at Professor Crystals' shoulder, making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Nikita about her dream diary.

"What night did you dream this again?" Chrissie said, immersed in her calculations.

"I dunno, last night, whenever you like," I told her, trying to listen yo what Umber was saying to Professor Crystals. They were only a table away from where Chrissie and I sat by this point. Professor Umber made another note on his clipboard and Professor Crystals was looking extremely put out.

"Now," said Umber, who looked up at Crystals, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"

Professor Crystals scowled at him, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though he wished to protect himself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which he seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that he could reasonably ignore it, he said in a nearly resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."

"Quite a period," said Professor Umber, making a note on his clipboard. "So it was Professor Crighton who appointed you?"

"That's right," said Professor Crystals shortly.

Professor Umber made another note.

"You are a great-great-grandson of the celebrated Seer Castiel Crystals?"

"Yes," said Professor Crystals, holding his head a little higher.

Another note on the clipboard.

"But I think - correct me if I am mistaken - that you are the first in your family since Castiel to be possessed of the Second Sight."

"These things often skip - er - three generations," said Professor Crystals.

Professor Umber's toadlike smile widened.

"Of course," he said sweetly, and made yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" And he looked up enquiringly, still smiling.

Professor Crystals stiffened as though his ears deceived him. "I don't understand you," he said, clutching convulsively at the scarves around his scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umber very clearly.

By this point, Chrissie and I were not the only ones who were watching and listening from behind our books. Most of my classmates stared transfixed at Professor Crystals as he drew himself up to his full height, beads and bangles clinking.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" he said in scandalised tones.

"I see," said Professor Umber softly, as he made yet another note on his clipboard.

"I - but - but ... _wait_!" said Professor Crystals suddenly, in an attempt at his ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it shook with anger. "I ... I think I _do_ see something ... something that concerns _you_ ... why, I sense something ... something _dark_ ... some grave peril ..."

Professor Crystals then pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umber who continued to smile blandly at him, eyebrows raised.

"I am afraid ... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Crystals finished dramatically.

There was a pause. Professor Umber surveyed Professor Crystals.

"Right," he said softly, scribbling on his clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do ..."

He turned away, leaving Professor Crystals standing rooted to the spot, his chest heaving. I caught Chrissie's eye and knew she was thinking the same thing as I was: we both knew that Professor Crystals was an old fraud, but on the other hand, we loathed Umber so much that we were very much on Crystals' side - until he swooped down on us a few seconds later, that is.

"Well?" he said, snapping his long fingers under my nose, uncharacteristically brisk. "Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please."

And by the time he had interpreted my dreams at the top of his voice (all of which, even the ones that involved me eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), I felt much less sympathy towards him. All the while, Professor Umber stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang he descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for us all when we reached our Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.

He hummed and smiled to himself when we entered the room. Chrissie and I told Chris (who had been in Arithmancy) and Sian (who had been in Ancient Runes) exactly what had happened in Divination as we all took our copies of _Defensive Magical Theory_ , but before either Chris or Sian could ask any questions, Professor Umber called us all to order and silence fell.

"Wands away," he instructed us all with a smile, and the people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence "Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation". There will be no need to talk."

Still smiling his wide, self-satisfied smile, he sat down at his desk. My classmates and I all gave an audible sigh as we turned, as one, to page nineteen. I wondered dully if there were enough chapters in the book to have kept us reading through all that year's lessons, and I was on the point of checking the contents page when I noticed that Sian had her hand in the air again.

Professor Umber noticed too and, what was more, he seemed to have worked out a strategy for such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend he had not noticed Sian, he got to his feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then he bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class (apart from myself, Chris and Chrissie) could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Dawson?"

"I've already read Chapter Two," said Sian.

"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

Professor Umber blinked but recovered his post almost instantly.

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Sian promptly. "He says "counter-jinx" is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Professor Umber narrowed his eyes and I knew he was impressed, against his will (Ha!).

"But I disagree," Sian continued.

Professor Umber's eyebrows rose a little higher and his gaze became distinctly colder.

"You disagree?" he repeated.

"Yes, I do," said Sian, who, unlike Umber, did not whisper, but spoke in a clear, carrying voice that had attracted the attention of the rest of my class by this point. "Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umber, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I am afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Dawson."

"But - " Sian began.

"That is enough," said Professor Umber. He walked back to the front of the class and stood before us, all the jauntiness he had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Dawson, I am going to have to take five points from Lion-Heart house."

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

"What for?" I said angrily.

"Don't you get involved!" Sian whispered urgently to me.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umber smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them - with the exception of Professor Quarrell, who did at least appear to have restrained herself to age-appropriate subjects - would have passed a Ministry inspection - "

"Yeah, Quarrell was a great teacher," I said loudly, "there was just the minor drawback of her having Lady Zira sticking out of the back of her head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the longest silences I have ever heard. Then -

"I think another week's detentions would do you good, Miss Pride-Lander, starting tonight," said Umber sleekly.

0000

The cut on the back of my hand had barely healed and, by the following morning, it had bled again. I did not complain during the evening's detention; I was determined not to give Umber the satisfaction; over and over again I wrote _I must not tell lies_ and not a sound escaped my lips, though the cut deepened with every letter.

The very worst part of that week's worth of detentions was, just as Geri had predicted, Andrew's reaction. He cornered me just as I arrived at the Lion-Heart table for breakfast on Wednesday and shouted so loudly that Professor Darbus swept down upon the pair of us from the staff table.

"Mr Johnstone, how _dare_ you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Lion-Heart!"

"But Professor - she's gone and landed herself in detention _again_ \- "

"What's this, Pride-Lander?" said Professor Darbus sharply, rounding on me. "Detention? From whom?"

"From Professor Umber," I muttered, not meeting Professor Darbus' beady, square-framed eyes.

"Are you telling me," she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Raven-Wings behind us could not hear, "that after the warning I gave you last Tuesday you lost your temper in Professor Umber's class again?"

"Yes," I muttered, speaking to the floor.

"Pride-Lander, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Lion-Heart!"

"But - what? Professor, no!" I said, furious at the injustice. "I'm already being punished by _him_ , why do you have to take points as well?"

"Because detentions do not seem to have any affect on you whatsoever!" said Professor Darbus tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Pride-Lander! And as for you, Mr Johnstone, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!"

Professor Darbus strode back towards the staff table. Andrew gave me a look of deepest disgust and stalked away, upon which I flung myself on to the bench beside Chrissie, fuming.

"She's taking points from Lion-Heart because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, _how_?"

"I know, mate," said Chrissie sympathetically, as she tipped bacon on to my plate, "she's bang out of order."

"I know it's not the strongest argument I've got, Kiara, but you've got _us_ ," said Chris, gesturing to himself, Sian and Chrissie. "We'll stand by your side, no matter what!"

"Thanks, Chris," I said, smiling at him gratefully. I then turned to Sian and my smile faded, for instead of looking at me, she was rustling the pages of her _Daily Squabbler_ , and said nothing at all.

"You think Darbus was right, do you?" I said angrily to the picture of Cornelia Sweets that obscured Sian's face.

"I wish she hadn't taken so many points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umber," said Sian's voice, while Sweets gesticulated forcefully from the front page, clearly giving some kind of speech.

I did not speak to Sian all the way through Charms, but when we entered Transfiguration I forgot about being cross with her. Professor Umber and his clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of him drove the memory of breakfast right out of my head.

"Excellent," whispered Chrissie, as we sat in our usual seats. "Let's see Umber get what he deserves."

Professor Darbus marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umber was there.

"That will do," she said, and silence fell immediately. "Miss Finn, kindly come here and hand back the homework - Mr Brown, please take this box of mice - don't be silly, boy, they won't hurt you - and hand one to each student - "

 _"Hem, hem,"_ said Professor Umber, employing the same silly little cough he had used to interrupt Crighton on the first night of term. Professor Darbus ignored him. Zara handed me back my essay; I took it without looking at her and saw, to my relief, that I had managed an "A".

"Right then, everyone, listen closely - Dena Wright, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention - most of you have successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be - "

 _"Hem, hem,"_ said Professor Umber.

 _"Yes?"_ said Professor Darbus, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec - "

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor Darbus, turning her back firmly on Professor Umber. Many of my fellow classmates exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell - "

 _"Hem, hem."_

"I wonder," said Professor Darbus in a cold fury, turning to Professor Umber, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

Professor Umber looked as though he had just been slapped in the face (Ha!). He did not speak, but straightened the parchment on his clipboard and began to scribble furiously.

Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor Darbus addressed us once more.

"As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So - you know the incantation, let me see what you can do ..."

"How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umber!" I muttered to Chris and Chrissie under my breath, but I was grinning - my anger with Professor Darbus had all but evaporated.

Professor Umber did not follow Professor Darbus around the class as he had followed Professor Crystals; perhaps he realised Professor Darbus would not permit it. He did, however, take many more notes while sitting in his corner, and when Professor Darbus told us all to pack away, he rose with a grim expression on his face.

"Well, it's a start," said Chrissie, who held up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropped it back into the box that Larry was passing around.

As we filed out of the classroom, I saw Professor Umber approach the teacher's desk; I nudged Chris, who nudged Sian, who nudged Chrissie in turn, and the four of us deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.

"How long have you been teaching at Dragon Mort?" Professor Umber asked.

"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor Darbus brusquely, as she snapped her bag shut.

Professor Umber made a note.

"Very well," he said, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I can hardly wait," said Professor Darbus, in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. "Hurry up, you four," she added, sweeping Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I before her.

I could not help giving her a faint smile and I could have sworn I received one in return.

I thought that the next time I would've seen Umber that day would have been in my detention that evening, but I was wrong. When we walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, we found him and his clipboard waiting for us beside Professor Smutty-Stave.

"You do not actually take this class, is that correct?" I heard him ask as we arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling for woodlice like so many living twigs.

"Quite correct," said Professor Smutty-Stave, hands behind his back and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Wickes."

I exchanged uneasy looks with Chris, Sian and Chrissie. Malty was whispering with Crate and Gabber; she would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Mina to a member of the Ministry.

"Hmm," said Professor Umber, dropping his voice, though I still heard him quite clearly. "I wonder - the Headmistress seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter - can _you_ tell me what is causing Professor Wickes' very extended leave of absence."

I saw Malty look up eagerly and watch Umber and Smutty-Stave closely.

"'Fraid I can't," said Professor Smutty-Stave breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Crighton, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well ... shall I get started then?"

"Yes, please do," said Professor Umber, scribbling on his clipboard.

Umber took a different tact in this class and wandered amongst my classmates, questioning them on magical creatures. Most of them were able to answer well and my spirits lifted somewhat; at least the class weren't letting Mina down.

"Overall," said Professor Umber, returning to Professor Smutty-Stave's side after a long interrogation of Dena Wright, "how do you as a temporary member of staff - an objective outsider, I suppose you might say - how do you find Dragon Mort? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"

"Oh, yes, Crighton's excellent," said Professor Smutty-Stave heartily. "Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."

Looking politely incredulous, Umber made a tiny note on his clipboard and went on, "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year - assuming, of course, that Professor Wickes does not return?"

"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWL," said Professor Smutty-Stave. "Not much left to do - they've studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know ..."

"Well, _you_ seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Smutty-Stave, making an obvious tick on his clipboard. I did not like the emphasis he put on _"you"_ and liked it even less when he put his next question to Gabber, "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

Gabber gave a stupid grin. Malty hastened to answer the question.

"That was me," she said. "I was slashed by a Hippogriff."

"A Hippogriff?" said Professor Umber, scribbling frantically.

"Only because she was too stupid to listen to what Mina told her to do," I said angrily.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie all groaned. Professor Umber turned his head slowly in my direction.

"Another night's detention, I think," he said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Smutty-Stave, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," said Professor Smutty-Stave, and Professor Umber set off back across the lawn to the castle.

0000

I remember that it was nearly midnight when I left Umber's office that night. My hand bled so severely that it stained the scarf I had wrapped around it. I expected the common room to be empty when I returned, but Chris, Sian and Chrissie had sat up waiting for me. I was pleased to see them, especially as Sian was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical.

"Here," she said soothingly, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid towards me, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

I placed my bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Lucifer curled around my legs, purring loudly, then leapt into my lap and settled down.

"Thanks," I said gratefully, giving Lucifer's ears a good scratch with my left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Chrissie in a low voice. Chris nodded beside her.

"No," I said flatly.

"Darbus would go nuts if she knew - "

"Yeah, she probably would," I said dully. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umber to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the high Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Chris and Chrissie both opened their mouths to retort, looked at each other slowly, then closed their mouths and bowed their heads, both of them defeated.

"He's an awful man," said Sian steadily. " _Awful._ You know, I was just saying to Chris and Chrissie when you came in ... we've got to do something about him."

"I suggested poison," said Chrissie grimly.

"Yeah, well, you would," Chris muttered. Chrissie glared at him. "What?" said Chris, shrugging. Sian rolled her eyes.

"No, Chrissie ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher he is, and how we're not going to learn Defence from him at all," said Sian.

"Well, what can we do about that?" said Chrissie, yawning. "'S too late, isn't it? He's got the job, he's here to stay. Sweets'll make sure of that."

"Well," said Sian tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today ..." she shot a nervous look at me then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" I said suspiciously, still keeping my hand floating in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

"Well - learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Sian.

"Come off it," groaned Chrissie. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Kiara and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" said Sian.

Chris, Chrissie and I goggled at her (after all, when did any of us ever picture Sian saying those words before?).

"I didn't think there was anything in _your_ universe more important than homework, Sian!" said Chris. Chrissie giggled.

"Don't be silly, Rickers, of course there is," said Sian, and I saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervour that HAME usually inspired in her. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Kiara - and I, too, to an extent - said in Umber's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we can really defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year - "

"We can't do much by ourselves," said Chrissie in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and practice them, I suppose - "

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books - for they can only get us so far," said Sian. "We need a teacher, a _proper_ one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we go wrong."

"If you're talking about Meers ..." I began.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Meers," said Sian. "He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Dragsmede weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?" I said, frowning at her.

Sian heaved a very deep sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about _you_ , Kiara."

There was a moment's silence. A light breeze rattled the window panes behind Chris and Chrissie, and the fire guttered.

"About me what?" I said.

"I'm talking about _you_ teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts."

I stared at her. I then turned to Chris and Chrissie, ready to exchange the exasperated looks we sometimes shared when Sian elaborated on far-fetched schemes like HAME. To my surprise, however, Chris and Chrissie did not look exasperated.

They were both frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then Chris said as Chrissie nodded, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" I said.

"You," said Chrissie. "Teaching us to do it."

"But ..."

I was grinning by this point, certain that the three of them were pulling my leg.

"But I'm not a teacher, I can't - "

"Kiara, you're the best in the year at Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Sian.

"Me?" I said, grinning more broadly than ever. "No I'm not, you've beaten me in every test - "

"Actually, I haven't," said Sian coolly. "You beat me in our third year - the only year when we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Kiara. Think about what you've _done_!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," said Chrissie, smiling slightly. Sian glared at her and thwacked her on the back of her head, but Chrissie wasn't bothered by this. She turned to me.

"Let's think," she said, pulling a face like Gabber concentrating. "Uh ... first year - you saved the Mirror of Wishes from She-You-Know."

"But that was luck," I said, "it wasn't skill - "

"Second year," Chris interrupted, "you killed the Lizsnabadra and destroyed Maliay."

"Yeah, but if Sian's Animal Spirit and Kenna hadn't turned up, I - "

"Third year," said Chrissie, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred Stingers at once - "

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't - "

"Last year," said Chris, almost shouting, "you fought off She-You-Know _again_ \- "

"Listen to me!" I said, almost angrily, because Chris and Chrissie were both smirking (Sian was the only one who seemed to take me seriously). "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck - I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help - "

Chris and Chrissie were still smirking, Sian was completely calm and I felt my temper rise; I'm not even sure why I felt so angry.

"Chris, Chrissie, don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do; I was there, wasn't I?" I said heatedly. "I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that stuff just because I was brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because - because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right - but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing - STOP LAUGHING!"

The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. I became aware that I was on my feet, though I didn't remember at what point I stood up. Lucifer streaked away under a sofa. Chris and Chrissie's smiles had vanished, and Sian still looked calmly at me.

" _You don't know what it's like!_ You - none of you - you've never had to face her, have you? You think it's just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at her, like you're in class or something. The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own - your own brain or guts or whatever - like you can think straight when you're a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die - they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that - and you three sit there acting like I'm a clever little girl to be standing here, alive, like Diggs was stupid, like she messed up - you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Zira hadn't needed me - "

"We weren't saying anything like that, Kiara," said Chris, looking aghast, as Chrissie shook her head aggressively. "We weren't having a go at Diggs, we didn't - you've got the wrong end of the - "

I looked desperately at Sian, who looked at me with a sympathetic smile.

"You're right, Kiara," she said firmly. "And this is why we need you. Because like it or not, this isn't just about school any more. This is so much bigger than that, because if we don't learn how to defend ourselves, then we are just going to be sitting ducks for the Love Destroyers, who will just swoop down on us and take us all out while they have the chance - and I don't know about you, but I do not want to give them that chance! When we fight in the big battle that is to come (and it will come), I want to stand and fight with my head held high than crumple to my knees in fear! That's not who I am, nor who I will ever be! We need to learn ... we need to be prepared ... we need to know what it's really like ... facing her ... facing ... Zira."

It was the first time she had ever said Zira's name and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed me. Still breathing hard, I sank back into my chair, becoming aware as I did so that my hand throbbed horribly again. I wished I had not smashed the bowl of Murtlap essence.

"Well ... think about it," said Sian quietly. "Please?"

I could not think of anything to say. I felt ashamed of my outburst. I nodded, hardly aware of what I was agreeing to.

Sian stood up.

"Well, I'm off to bed," she said, in a naturally calm voice. "Night, then."

Chris and Chrissie both got to their feet, too,

"Coming?" Chrissie said awkwardly to me.

"Yeah," I said. "In ... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

I indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Chris and Chrissie nodded and left.

 _"Reparo,"_ I muttered, pointing my wand at the broken piece of china. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl.

I was suddenly so tired that night that I was tempted to sink back into my armchair and fall asleep there, but instead I forced myself to my feet and followed Chrissie upstairs. My restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors and I awoke the next day with my scar prickling again.

 **AN: Please don't blame me for my knowledge of the Internet, for I didn't have it back in 2008 and I still don't know that much about it because it's so extensive. I do know more, but it would take so much of my time to write, and there were other important factors to put in this chapter, so just go with it. Thank you.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

 **In the Dragon's Eye**

 **KIARA**

Sian made no mention about me giving Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after her original suggestion. My detentions with Umber were finally over (I doubted whether the words that were etched into the back of my hand would ever fade entirely); Chrissie had had four more Quidditch practices and had not been shouted at during the last two; and all four of us had managed to Vanish our mice in Transfiguration (Sian - being Sian - had actually progressed to Vanishing kittens), before the subject was broached again, on a wild, blustery evening at the end of September, when the four of us were sat in the library, looking up potion ingredients for Triphorm.

"I was wondering," Sian said suddenly, "whether you'd given any more thought about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Kiara."

"Course I have," I said grumpily, "can't forget it, can we, with that monster teaching us - "

"I meant the idea Chris, Chrissie and I had - " Chris and Chrissie both cast her alarmed, threatening looks. She frowned at them, " - Oh, all right, the idea _I_ had, then - about you teaching us."

I did not answer at once. I pretended to be perusing the a page of _Asiatic Anti-Venoms_ , because I did not want to say what was on my mind.

I had given the matter a great deal of thought over that fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Sian proposed it, but at others, I found myself thinking about the spells that had served me best in my various encounters with Dark creatures and Love Destroyers - I found myself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons ...

"Well," I said slowly, when I couldn't pretend to find _Asiatic Anti-Venoms_ interesting any longer, "yeah, I-I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" said Sian eagerly.

"I dunno," I said, playing for time. I looked up at Chris and Chrissie.

"I think it's a good idea, Kiara. I've thought that from the start," said Chris.

"Me, too," said Chrissie. I noticed that they both seemed keener to join in the conversation because of the reassurance they had that I wasn't going to start shouting again - Chrissie in particular.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

"You did listen to what I said about a lot of it being luck, didn't you?"

"Yes, Kiara," said Sian gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that most full-grown wizards can't. Kopa told me that you know how to do stuff he and his brother can't, Kiara, and they were in their final year at Uagadou - and that's saying something."

I was taken aback by that comment. To have two seventeen-/eighteen-year-old wizards say that about me ... well, that was praise, indeed!

There was a pause, and then Sian said to me, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?"

"Just you, Chris and Chrissie, yeah?"

"Well," said Sian, who looked quite anxious. "Well ... don't go flying off the handle again, Kiara, please ... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against ... Zira. Chris, Chrissie, don't be pathetic. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

I considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you three would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Sian seriously. "Look," she leaned towards me - Chris and Chrissie leaned forward too - "you know the first weekend in October's a Dragsmede weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Chrissie.

"Because," said Sian, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umber would be very happy if he found out what we were up to."

0000

I had been looking forward to that weekend trip into Dragsmede, but there was one thing that worried me. My parents had maintained a stony silence since they had appeared in the fire at the beginning of the September (I knew the only reason my father hadn't contacted me was because he was standing firm by my mother's side, but it still hurt); I knew I had made my mother angry by saying I didn't want her or my father to come - but in those days I still worried from time to time that my parents would throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. I couldn't help but ask myself what we would do if the great black dogs came bounding up the street towards us in Dragsmede, perhaps under the nose of Dani Malty.

"Well, you can't blame them for wanting to get out and about," said Chrissie, when I had discussed my fears with her, Chris and Chrissie. "I mean, they've been on the run for over two years, haven't they, and I know that can't've been a laugh, but at least they were free, weren't they? And now they're shut up all the time with that ghastly elf."

Chris laughed. Sian scowled at Chrissie, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kleaner.

"The trouble is," she said to me, "is that until ... Zira - oh, for heaven's _sake_ , you two - comes out into the open, Simba and Nala are going to have to stay in hiding, aren't they? I mean, the Ministry aren't going to realise your parents are innocent until they accept Ma's been telling the truth about them all along. And once the fools start catching real Love Destroyers again, it'll be obvious Simba and Nala are not part of them ... I mean, neither of them has the Trail, for one thing."

"I don't think they'd be stupid enough to turn up," said Chris bracingly. "Ma'd go mad if they did and Simba and Nala listen to Ma, even if they don't like what they hear. Besides, you heard your father, Kiara. I'm sure he's talked some reason into your mother by now."

When I continued to look worried, Sian said, "Listen, Chris, Chrissie and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a couple of them seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Dragsmede."

"Right," I said vaguely, my mind still on my parents.

"Don't worry, Kiara," Sian said quietly. "You've got enough on your plate without your parents, too."

She was quite right, of course; I barely kept up with my homework, though I was doing much better seeing as I was no longer spending every evening in detention with Umber. Chrissie was even further behind on her work than I was, because while we both had Quidditch practice twice a week, Chrissie also had her Prefect duties. However, Chris and Sian, who both took more subjects than either of us (although Sian took a couple more than Chris), had not only finished all their work (Chris and Sian worked together most of the time), but Sian was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. I had to admit that she was getting better; it was almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks.

The morning of the Dragsmede weekend dawned bright but windy. After breakfast we queued up in front of Match, who matched our names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, I remembered that if it had not been for my own parents, I would not have been going as well.

When I reached Match, the caretaker gave a great sniff as if he was trying to detect a whiff of something from me. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and I walked on, out on to the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.

"Er - why was Match sniffing you?" Chrissie asked, as she, Chris, Sian and I set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.

"I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs," I said with a small laugh. "I forgot to tell you ..."

And I recounted the story of sending my letter to my parents and Match bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. To my slight surprise, Sian found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than I did myself.

"He said he was tipped off that you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?"

"I dunno," I said, shrugging. "Maybe Malty, she'd think it was a laugh."

We walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left on to the road into the village, the wind whipping our hair into our eyes.

"Malty?" said Sian, sceptically. "Well ... yes ... maybe ..."

And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Dragsmede.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I asked. "The Flying Owls?"

"Oh - no," said Sian, coming out of her reverie, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Dragon's Eye, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit ... you know ... _dodgy_ ... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

We walked down the main street past Whacko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where we were not surprised to see Tanya, Geri and Leah Jones, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it that was part of a dragon, its scales dark and jagged, and in the middle was a large yellow eye with a black slit down the middle for a pupil. The sign creaked in the wind as we approached. The four of us hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Sian, slightly nervously. I led the way inside.

It was not at all like the Flying Owls, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Dragon's Eye comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been sheep. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as I stepped on to it I realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

I remembered Mina mentioning this pub in my first year: "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Dragon's Eye," she had said, explaining how she had won a dragon's egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time I had wondered why Mina had not found it odd that the stranger had kept her face hidden throughout their encounter; now I saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Dragon's Eye. There was a woman at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though she still managed to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over her mouth; two figures shrouded in heads sat at a table in one of the windows; I might have thought them Dementors (I've seen pictures) if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a wizard with a black pointed wizard's hat that covered his eyes, and the rest of his head was covered by a black scarf - apart from his nose, which poked out over the scarf.

"I don't know about this, Sian," I muttered, as we crossed to the bar. I looked particularly at the wizard with the hat and the scarf. "Has it occurred to you Umber might be under that?"

Sian cast an appraising eye over the covered-up figure.

"Umber is shorter than that man," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umber does come in here there's nothing he can do to stop us, Kiara, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Winds whether students were allowed to come in the Dragon's Eye, and she said yes, but she advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we _parade_ what we're doing."

"No," I said drily, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barmaid sidled towards us out of a back room. She was a grumpy-looking old woman with a great deal of long grey hair. She was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to me.

"What?" she grunted.

"Four Butterbeers, please," said Sian.

The woman reached beneath the bar and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which she slammed on the bar.

"Eight Sickles," she said.

"I'll get them," I said quickly, passing over the silver. The barmaid's eyes travelled over me, resting for a fraction of a second on my scar. Then she turned away and deposited my money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer opened automatically to receive it. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The woman in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with her knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barmaid.

"You know what?" Chrissie muttered, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet she would sell us anything, she wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky - "

 _"You - are - a - Prefect,"_ snarled Sian.

"Not to mention, you're also fifteen, Chrissie," hissed Chris.

"Oh," said Chrissie, the smile fading from her face. "Yeah ..."

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" I asked, wrenching open the rusty top of my Butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Sian repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now ..."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave. Then came Nikita with Dena, Larry, Sarah Rimmer and her brother, Chris, who were closely followed by Perry and (my stomach did a back-flip) Khan and one of his friends (when he (Khan) entered, Chris (Rickers) looked like he could have punched him), then (on his own and looking so dreamy he might have walked in by accident) Lincoln Lovedream (Kestrel seemed to perk up when she saw him); then Keith Ball, Aaron Spinns and Andrew Johnstone, Colleen and Denise McCreevy, Emily Mack, Justine Cole, Henry Abbott, Becki Rimmer (a Badger-Stripes girl in my year), Lia Thistlethwait (a fellow Lion-Heart in my year), a Badger-Stripes boy with short hair whose name I did not know; three Raven-Wings girls I was pretty sure were called Annabelle Goldform, Michelle Corn and Teri Boots, closely followed by three third-years, two girls and a boy, all in Lion-Heart: one girl had frizzy brown hair, blue eyes, a bad acne problem and was quite large, the second girl had freckles, long ginger hair, bright blue eyes and a skinny figure, and the boy was tall for his age, had blue eyes and short brown hair (their names were Jess Goodwin, Kyra Windsor and Jamie Leach). Next came a tall, skinny blonde girl with an upturned nose whom I recognised vaguely as being a member of the Badger-Stripes Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Tanya and Geri Fang and their friend Leah Jones, all three of whom carried large paper bags crammed with Whacko's merchandise, and behind them was Keziah Rea-Bradley, and as you can imagine, a lot of people didn't like her there. But before any of us could say anything, Sian stood up and spoke.

"Look, I know many of you aren't too pleased to see Keziah, but she chose to come here on her own." A lot of people scoffed at this, but Sian ignored them. "Look, Keziah's here for the exact same reason as the rest of us are, and if none of you can be civil enough to tolerate her presence, then there's the door," she finished, pointing at the door. I'm certain a lot of people would have spoken against Sian, had it not been for the fiercely strong glare she gave everyone. Eventually, one by one, they all nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Sian nodded, satisfied, and sat back down. Keziah shot Sian a grateful smile and stepped closer to the group. A few people eyed her cautiously, but nothing was said. I, however, had trouble accepting how many people were there.

"A couple of people?" I said hoarsely to Sian. _"A couple of people?"_

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Sian happily. "Chris, Chrissie, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barmaid had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, she had never seen her pub so full.

"Hi," said Tanya, reaching the bar and counting her companions quickly, "could we have ... thirty-nine - "

 _"Tanya,"_ said Sian warningly.

Tanya huffed and said reluctantly, "Fine ... _forty_ Butterbeers, please?"

The barmaid glared at her for a moment, then, throwing down her rag irritably, as though she had been interrupted in something very important, then started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Tanya, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these ..."

I watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Tanya and rummaged in their robes to find gold, even Rea-Bradley. I could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the thought occurred to me that they might be expecting me to give some kind of speech, at which I rounded on Sian.

"What have you been telling people?" I said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Sian soothingly, but when I continued to look at her furiously, she added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Kiara," said Nikita, beaming as she took a seat opposite me.

I tried to smile back, but did not speak; my mouth was exceptionally dry. Khan had just smiled at me and sat down on Chrissie's right (Chris was not happy at how close he was to us - well, to me, anyway). His friend, who had curly, reddish-blond hair, did not smile, but gave me a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told me that, given his way, he would not have been there at all.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I, some looking rather excited, others curious, and Lincoln Lovedream gazed dreamily into space. When everyone had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was on me. Sian took a deep breath and stood up.

"Well, hi," Sian said firmly, looking at everyone steadily. "Thank you all for coming here today."

The group focused on her instead, though eyes continued to dart regularly back to me.

"Well, you know why we're all here. You see, Kiara had the idea - all right" (I had thrown her a sharp look) " _I_ had the idea - that it might be good if people wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, _really_ study it, you know, not that rubbish that Umber is "teaching" us, because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts - " ("Hear, hear," said Annabelle Goldform, and Sian looked heartened) " - Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at me, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory, but doing real spells - "

"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michelle Corn, who watched her closely.

"Of course I do," said Sian at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because ... because ..." she took a deep breath and finished, "because Lady Zira's back."

The reaction was both immediate and predictable. Khan's friend jumped and slopped Butterbeer down himself; Teri Boots gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Perry Party shuddered; Keziah went white and Nikita gave an odd yelp that she managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at me.

"Well ... that's the plan, anyway," said Sian. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to - "

"Where's the proof She-You-Know's back?" said the blonde Badger-Stripes player in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, my mother believes - " Sian began.

"You mean, your mother believes _her_ ," said the blonde girl, nodding at me.

"Who are _you_?" said Chrissie, rather rudely.

"Zhi Smith," said the girl, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes her say She-You-Know's back."

"Look," said Sian, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting is supposed to be about - "

"It's OK, Sian," I said, standing up.

It had just dawned on me why there were so many people there. I thought Sian should have seen his coming. Some of these people - maybe even most of them - had turned up in the hopes of hearing my story firsthand.

"What makes me say She-You-Know's back?" I repeated, looking Zhi straight in the face. "I saw her. But Crighton told the whole school what happened last year, as did Georgia's spirit, and if you didn't believe them, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath as I spoke. I had the impression that even the barmaid listened. She was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.

Zhi said dismissively, "All Crighton told us last year was that Georiga Diggs got killed by She-You-Know and that you brought Diggs' body back to Dragon Mort - and Diggs didn't say much about it, either, but told us to believe you. Crighton and Diggs didn't give us details. Neither of them told us how Diggs got murdered, so I think we've all got a right to know - "

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Zira murders someone I can't help you," I said. My temper, which was always close to boiling point in those days, was rising again. I did not take my eyes off Zhi Smith's face, and I was determined not to look at Khan. "Look, I don't want to talk about Georgia Diggs right now, especially those who don't believe me, all right? So if that's all you're here for, you might as well just clear out."

I cast an angry look in Sian's direction. I remember feeling like this was all her fault; she had decided to display me like some sort of freak, and of course they had all turned up to see just how wild my story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zhi Smith, though she continued gazing intently at me.

"So," said Sian, "so ... like I was saying ... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to - "

"Is it true," said the boy with the short red hair, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," I said defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in my memory.

"Er - you don't know Sir Bongos, do you?" I asked.

The boy smiled.

"He's my uncle," he said. "I'm Seanan Bongos. He told me about your hearing. So - is it really true? You make a lioness Patronus?"

"Yes," I said.

"Blimey, Kiara!" said Leah, who looked deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Our parents told Chris, Sian, Chrissie and the rest of us not to spread it around," said Merida, grinning at me. "They said you get enough attention as it is."

"They're not wrong," I muttered, and a couple of people laughed.

The covered-up wizard sitting alone shifted slightly in his seat.

"And did you kill a Lizsnabadra with that sword in Crighton's office?" demanded Teri Boots. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year ..."

"Er - yeah, I did, yeah," I said.

Justine Cole whistled; the McCreevy sisters exchanged awestruck looks and Larry Brown said "Wow!" softly. I felt slightly hot around the collar with the praise I was getting, and I was doing my best to look anywhere but at Khan.

"And in our first year," said Nikita to the group at large, "she saved that Mirror of Wishes from She-You-Know!"

Henry Abbott's eyes were as wide as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Khan (my eyes snapped across to him; he looked at me, smiling; my stomach did another somersault) "all the tasks she had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons, merpeople, a Paleman, Acromantula and things ..."

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. My insides were squirming. I tried (desperately) to arrange my face so that I did not appear to look too pleased with myself. The fact that Khan had just praised me made it much, much harder for me to say the thing I had sworn to myself I would tell them. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris glaring forcefully at Khan, but Khan's gaze was focused on me and no one else.

"Look," I said, and everyone fell silent at once, "I ... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but ... I had a lot of help with all that stuff ..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michelle Corn at once. "That was some seriously cool flying ..."

"Yeah, well - " I said, feeling like it would be churlish to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those Stingers this summer," said Seanan Bongos.

"No," I said, "no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is - "

"Are you trying to weasel out of any of this stuff?" said Zhi Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Chrissie loudly, before I got the chance to speak, "why don't you stuff your mouth?"

"Chrissie's right," said Chris. "Instead of jumping to conclusions, why don't you listen to what Kiara's really trying to tell us?"

Chris and Chrissie both looked at Zhi as though they wanted to thump her at that moment. Zhi flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to hear from her and now she's telling us she can't really do any of it," she said.

"That's not what she said," snarled Tanya.

"Would you like us to clear out your ears for you?" enquired Geri, as she pulled out a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Whacko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Tanya.

"Yes, well," said Sian hastily, "moving on ... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Kiara?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zhi folded her arms and said nothing, though I think this was because she was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Geri's hands.

"Right," said Sian, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often do we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week - "

"Hang on," said Andrew, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Khan, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," said Zhi Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Sian, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important; we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against ... Lady Zira's Love Destroyers - "

"Well said!" barked Emily Mack, who I had expected to speak long before this. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!"

She looked around impressively, as though she was waiting for someone to cry "Surely not!" When no one spoke, she went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of She-You-Know, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells - "

"We think the reason Umber doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Sian, "is that he's got some ... some mad idea that my mother could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. He thinks she'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

Nearly everyone looked stunned at this news - well, everyone except Lincoln Lovedream, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelia Sweets has got her own private army."

"What?" I said, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, she's got an army of Heliopaths," said Lincoln solemnly.

"No, she hasn't," snapped Sian.

"Yes, she has," said Lincoln.

"What are Heliopaths?" said Nikita, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," said Lincoln, his protuberant eyes widening so that he looked madder than ever, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground, burning everything in their - "

"They don't exist, Nikita," said Sian tartly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Lincoln angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Sian.

"There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you - "

 _"Hem, hem,"_ said Chris, in such a good imitation of Professor Umber that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?"

"Yes," said Sian at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Chris."

"Well, once a week sounds good," said Leah Jones.

"As long as - " began Andrew.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Sian in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet ..."

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Keith Ball after a few moments.

"I can't see Sir Pincers being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," I said.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" suggested Dena.

"Yeah," said Chrissie, "Darbus might let us use hers; she did when Kiara practiced for the Triwizard."

But I was pretty certain that Darbus would not be so accommodating that time. For all that Sian had said about study and homework groups being allowed, I had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a bit more rebellious.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Sian. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.

"I - I think everybody should write their names down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout out about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umber or anybody else what we're up to. And what's more, once you put your name down there's no turning back, so make sure that you're one hundred per-cent certain that you want to go through with this before you sign."

Tanya reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote her signature, but I noticed at once that several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Er ..." said Zhi slowly, not taking the parchment that Geri tried to pass to her, "well ... I'm sure Emily will tell me when the meeting is."

But Emily looked rather hesitant about signing, too. Sian raised her eyebrows at her.

"I - well, we are _Prefects_ ," Emily burst out. "And if this list was found ... well, I mean to say ... you said it yourself, if Umber finds out - "

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," I reminded her.

"I - yes," said Emily, "yes, I do believe that, it's just - "

"Emily, do you really believe that I would leave that list lying around?" said Sian testily.

"No, no, of course not," said Emily, who looked slightly less anxious. "I - yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Emily, though I saw Khan's friend give him a rather reproachful look before he added his own name. When the last person - Keziah - had signed, Sian took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. An odd feeling had come over all of us, for it kind of felt as though we had just signed some sort of contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Tanya briskly, getting to her feet. "Geri, Leah and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, so we'll see you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too. Khan made rather a business of fastening the catch on his bag before leaving, trying his best to hide his face, but his friend stood beside him, arms folded, clicking his tongue, so that Khan had little choice but to leave with him. As his friend ushered him through the door, Khan looked back and waved at me.

But one person, I noticed, didn't leave with anyone else; Keziah left on her own, as everyone around her gave her a wide berth. I looked at Sian, and saw her watching Keziah leave as a saddened look crossed her face.

"Well, I think that wen quite well," said Sian happily, as she, Chris, Chrissie and I walked out of the Dragon's Eye into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Chris, Chrissie and I clutched our Butterbeer bottles.

"That Zhi girl's a wart," said Chrissie, as she and Chris glowered after the figure of Smith, who was just discernible in the distance.

"I don't like her much, either," admitted Sian, "but she overheard me talking to Emily and Henry at the Badger-Stripes table and she seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really - I mean, Michelle Corn and her friends wouldn't have come if she hadn't been going out with Ben - "

Chrissie, who had been draining the last few drops from her Butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed Butterbeer down her front.

"She's WHAT?" spluttered Chrissie, outraged, her cheeks a furious shade of pink. "He's going out with - Ben's going - what d'you mean, Michelle Corn?"

"Well, that's why she and her friends came, I think - well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ben hadn't told Michelle what was going on - "

"When did this - when did he - ?"

"They met a few days after the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year," said Sian composedly. We turned into the High Street and she paused outside Point Tips Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quill in the window. "Hmm ... I could do with a new quill."

She turned into the shop. Chris, Chrissie and I followed her.

"Which one was Michelle Corn?" Chrissie demanded furiously.

The dark one," said Sian.

"I didn't like her," said Chrissie at once.

"Big surprise," said Sian under her breath. Then, in a much louder tone, said, "Why are you so concerned, anyway? Are you jealous?"

Chrissie spluttered and said, " _What?_ Pfft, no! What gave you that idea? I'm just ... just looking out for my brother, that's all. Anyway, dear eldest sister, why aren't you worried about this?"

"Because I know Ben, and even though he's only thirteen, I think that he has every right to decide who he goes out with. And before you ask, Chrissie, I'm not getting involved because this is Ben's relationship, and if he makes a mistake, it's better that he learns on his own rather than someone stepping in and telling him he's doing wrong; for after all, if someone told us our mistakes before we made them, then how would we ever learn?"

Chrissie was struck dumb by her sister's comment. Sian used this silence to her advantage by turning to Chris and asking him, "What about you, Chris? Have you got your sights set on anyone you want to date?"

I was still focused on Khan's wave, and I did not find this subject nearly as interesting as Chrissie, who positively quivered with indignation, but I somehow found myself interested in Chris' answer.

Chris took a long sip from his drink and said, "No, not at the moment. I mean, sure I'd like to date her one day, but until she's ready, I can wait."

I noticed that as Chris said this that he didn't dare look at me. Sian and Chrissie shared a look and hid a smile. Sian then turned back to examine a long black and gold quill.

"Yes, I think I'll have this one ..." she said after a moment.

She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, with Chrissie still breathing down her neck.

"Chrissie," she said severely, as she turned and trod on her feet, "this is exactly why Ben hasn't told you he's seeing Michelle, because he knew you'd take it badly. So don't _harp on_ about it, for heaven's sake."

"What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything ..." Chrissie continued to chunter under her breath all the way down the street.

Sian rolled her eyes at Chris and I and then said in a low undertone, while Chrissie muttered imprecations about Michelle Corn, "And talking about Michelle and Ben ... what about you and Khan, Kiara?"

"What d'you mean?" I said quickly.

I felt as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside me; a burning sensation caused my face to smart in the cold - had I really been that obvious?

"Well," said Sian, smiling slightly, "he just couldn't keep his eyes off you, could he?" Sian then turned to Chris, and her smile vanished.

"Are you OK, Chris?"

"I'm fine, Sian. Perfectly fine," Chris said through gritted teeth; the knuckles of the hand which held his Butterbeer bottle had turned white and was shaking.

But at that moment, I didn't really care how Chris felt (sorry, Chris!). I remember grinning like an idiot, trying not to laugh, as I had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Dragsmede really was.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 **Educational Decree** **Number Forty-six**

 **KIARA**

I remember feeling happier for the rest of that weekend than I had done all term. Chrissie and I spent most of Sunday catching up with all our homework again, and although it could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunlight persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room, we took our work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the river. Chris and Sian, who were both up to date with all their work, brought more wool and wood outside with them. Sian bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair before her, producing more hats and scarves, whereas Chris was focused on carving another figure from sandalwood (I think it was a dragon, but I can't be sure).

Knowing we were doing something to resist Umber and the Ministry, and that I was a key part of the rebellion, gave me a feeling of immense satisfaction. I kept reliving Saturday's meeting in my mind: all those people, coming to me to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts - I couldn't believe it ... and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things that I had done ... and Khan praising my performance in the Triwizard Tournament - knowing all of those people did not think of me as a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed me up so much that I was still cheerful on Monday morning.

When Sian, Chrissie and I headed downstairs from our dormitory, Chrissie and I discussing Andrew's idea that we were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that night's Quidditch practice, and as we reached the common room we saw Chris, who looked panic-stricken. As soon as he saw us, he dashed over to where we were stood.

"Thank goodness you've come down! You've got to see this! Come on!" Chris said hurriedly, and he pulled me by the arm to the middle of the common room, Sian and Chrissie right behind us. Before I could ask Chris what had him so worried, I saw him looking at the noticeboard, which had attracted a lot of attention.

A large sign had been affixed to the Lion-Heart noticeboard; so large it covered everything else on it - the lists of second-hand books for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Douglas Match, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Multi-Flavoured Fruit-Frog Cards for others, the Fangs' latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Dragsmede weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

 _BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR_

 _All student organisation, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded._

 _An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of four or more students._

 _Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umber)._

 _No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

 _Any student to have found, or to belong to, an organisation, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled._

 _The above is in Accordance with Educational Decree Number Forty-six._

 _Signed: Democritus Jonas Umber, High Inquisitor_

Sian, Chrissie and I read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second-years.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked her friend.

"I reckon you'll be OK with Gobstones," Chrissie said darkly, making the second-year jump. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" she asked Chris, Sian and I as the second-years hurried away.

I read the notice through again. The happiness that had filled me since Saturday was gone. My insides were pulsating with rage.

"This isn't a coincidence," I said, my hands forming fists. "He knows."

"He can't," said Chris at once.

"There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust ... any of them could have run off and told Umber ..."

And the thought they had believed me, thought they might even have admired me ...

"Zhi Smith!" said Chrissie at once, punching a fist into her hand. "Or - I thought that Michelle Corn had a really shifty look, too - "

"Keziah Rea-Bradley!" said Chris triumphantly. "I'll bet you anything ..."

Sian rolled her eyes at Chris and Chrissie's assumptions.

"Look, as much as I admire your enthusiasm, I'm afraid to say that no one could have talked to Umber about this."

Chris and Chrissie looked at Sian sceptically.

"Oh, Sian, you poor, naïve girl," said Chrissie. "You think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy - "

"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Sian grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umber, we'll know exactly who they are and they will regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" said Chris eagerly.

"Well, put it this way," said Sian, "it'll make Elliot Midge's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think ... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umber's sign had not only appeared in Lion-Heart Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring what they had read (and no, it wasn't Keziah who snitched, for as we passed the Snake-Eyes table, we looked over and saw Keziah, sitting alone, looking completely normal, which was something Chris and Chrissie weren't too happy about). Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had barely taken our seats when Nikita, Dena, Tanya, Geri, Merida and Ben descended upon us.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon he knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They all looked at me. I glanced around to make sure no teachers were near us.

"We're going to do it anyway, of course," I said quietly.

"Knew you'd say that," said Geri, beaming and thumping my arm.

"The Prefects as well?" said Tanya, looking quizzically at Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"Of course," said Sian coolly.

"Here come Emily and Henry Abbott," said Chrissie, looking over her shoulder. "And those Raven-Wing girls and Smith ... and no one looks very spotty."

Sian looked alarmed.

"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious - sit down!" she gestured to Emily and Henry, gesturing frantically to them to join the Badger-Stripes table. "Later! We'll - talk - to - you - _later_!"

"I'll tell Michelle," said Ben impatiently, swinging himself off the bench, "the fool, honestly ..."

He hurried off towards the Raven-Wings table; I watched him go. Khan was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend he had brought along to the Dragon's Eye. I couldn't help but wonder if Umber's notice had scared him off meeting us again.

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until we left the Great Hall for Muggle Studies.

"Kiara! _Chrissie!_ "

It was Andrew and he was hurrying towards us looking perfectly desperate.

"It's OK," I said quietly, when he was close enough to hear me. "We're still going to - "

"You realise he's including Quidditch in this?" Andrew said over me. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Lion-Heart team!"

 _"What?"_ I said.

"No way," said Chrissie, appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Kiara ... I am saying this for the last time ... please, _please_ don't lose your temper with Umber again or he might not let us play any more!"

"OK, OK," I said, for Andrew looked like he was trying hard not to punch anything. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself ..."

And that pretty much sums up all the excitement of that Monday, so let's move on swiftly to Tuesday, shall we?

Tuesday (or, as it had come to be known to for many of us that year, the new Monday) dawned just as anxiously as Monday had. Chrissie thought that Umber would've been in History of Magic, seeing as Umber hadn't inspected Yawn at that point - but he wasn't. The only teacher present when we entered was Professor Yawn, who floated an inch or so above her chair as usual and prepared to continue her monotonous tone on giant wars. I did not even attempt to follow what she said that day; I doodled idly on my parchment, ignoring Sian's frequent nudges and glares, until a particularly painful poke in my ribs made me look up angrily.

 _"What?"_

She pointed at the window. I looked round. Harold was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at me, a letter tied to his leg. I could not understand it; we had just had breakfast, after all, so why hadn't he delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of my classmates pointed Harold out to each other, too.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, he's so beautiful," I heard Larry say to Perry.

I glanced round at Professor Yawn who continued to read her notes, serenely unaware that the class' attention was even less than focused upon her than usual. I slipped quietly off my chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where I slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

I had expected Harold to hold out his leg so that I could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, but the moment the window was open wide enough he hopped inside, hooting dolefully. I closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Yawn, crouched low again and sped back to my seat with Harold on my shoulder. I regained my seat, transferred Harold to my lap and made to remove the letter tied to his leg.

Only then did I realise that Harold's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and he held one of his wings at an odd angle.

"He's hurt!" I whispered, bending my head low over him. Chris, Sian and Chrissie leaned in closer; Sian even put down her quill. "Look - there's something wrong with his wing - "

Harold was quivering; when I made to try and touch the wing he gave a little jump; all his feathers were on end as though he was inflating himself, and he gazed at me reproachfully. I winced a little and looked at him apologetically, and at that moment I knew what I had to do.

"Professor Yawn," I said loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at me. "I'm not feeling well."

Professor Yawn raised her eyes from her notes, and looked amazed, as always, to find the room in front of her full of people.

"Not feeling well?" she repeated hazily.

"Not at all well," I said firmly, as I got to my feet with Harold concealed behind my back. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes," said Professor Yawn, clearly very much wrong-footed. "Yes ... yes, hospital wing ... well, off you go, then, Proudinger ..."

Once outside the room, I returned Harold to my shoulder and hurried off up the corridor, pausing to think only when I was outside of Yawn's door. My first choice of somebody to cure Harold would have been Mina, of course, but as I had no idea where Mina was, my only option was to find Professor Smutty-Stave and hope he would help.

I peered out of a window at the blustery, overcast grounds. There was no sign of him anywhere near Mina's cabin; I figured that if he was not teaching, then he was probably in the staff room. I set off downstairs, with Harold hooting feebly as he swayed on my shoulder.

Two stone gargoyles flanked the staff-room door. As I approached, one of them croaked, "You should be in class, missy."

"This is urgent," I said curtly.

"Ooooh, _urgent_ , is it?" said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. "Well, that's put us in our place, hasn't it?"

I knocked. I heard footsteps, then the door opened and I found myself face to face with Professor Darbus.

"You haven't been given another detention!" she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly.

"No, Professor!" I said hastily.

"Well then, why are you out of class?"

"It's _urgent_ , apparently," said the second gargoyle snidely.

"I'm looking for Professor Smutty-Stave," I explained. "It's my owl, he's injured."

"Injured owl, did you say?"

Professor Smutty-Stave appeared at Professor Darbus' shoulder, smoking a pipe and holding a copy of the _Daily Squabbler_.

"Yes," I said, lifting Harold carefully off my shoulder, "he turned up after the other post owls and his wing's all funny, look - "

Professor Smutty-Stave stuck his pipe between his teeth and took Harold from me as Professor Darbus watched.

"Hmm," said Professor Smutty-Stave, his pipe waggling slightly as he talked. "Looks like something's attacked him. Can't think what would have done it, though. Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Mina's got the Dragon Mort Thestrals well-trained not to touch owls."

I neither knew nor cared what Thestrals were at that moment; all I wanted to know was whether Harold was going to be all right. Professor Darbus, however, looked sharply at me and said, "Do you know how far this owl's travelled, Pride-Lander?"

"Er," I said. "From London, I think."

I met her eyes briefly and I knew, from the way her eyebrows had joined in the middle, that she understood "London" to mean "Wart House".

Professor Smutty-Stave pulled a monocle out of the inside of his robes and screwed it into his eye to examine Harold closely. "I should be able to sort this sort of thing out if you leave him with me, Pride-Lander," he said. "He shouldn't be flying long distances for a few days, in any case."

"Er - right - thanks," I said, just as the bell rang for break.

"No problem," said Professor Smutty-Stave gruffly, as he turned back into the staff-room.

"Just a moment, Wilhelm!" said Professor Darbus. "Pride-Lander's letter!"

"Oh yeah!" I said; I had momentarily forgotten about the small scroll tied to Harold's leg. Professor Smutty-Stave handed it over and then disappeared into the staff-room carrying Harold, who was staring at me as though unable to believe I would give him away like that. I felt slightly guilty as I turned to go, but Professor Darbus called me back.

"Pride-Lander!"

"Yes, Professor?"

She glanced up and down the corridor; students were coming from both directions.

"Bear in mind," she said quickly and quietly, as her eyes were focused on the scroll in my hand, "that channels of communication in and out of Dragon Mort may be watched, won't you?"

"I - " I said, but the flood of students rolling along the corridor was almost upon me. Professor Darbus gave me a curt nod and retreated into the staff-room, leaving me to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd. I spotted Chris, Sian and Chrissie already standing in a sheltered corner, their cloak collars turned up against the wind. I slit open the scroll as I hurried towards them and found five words in my father's handwriting:

 _Today, same time, same place._

"Is Harold OK?" said Sian anxiously, the moment I was within earshot.

"Where did you take him?" asked Chris.

"To Smutty-Stave," I said. "And I met Darbus ... listen ..."

And I told them what Professor Darbus had said. To my surprise, none of them looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.

"What?" I said, looking from Chris to Sian to Chrissie and back again.

"Well, I was just saying to Chris and Chrissie ... what if someone had tried to intercept Harold? I mean, he's never been hurt on a flight before, has he?"

"Who's the letter from, anyway?" asked Chrissie, taking the note from me.

"Leo and Leona," I said quietly.

" "Same time, same place." Do they mean the fire in the common room?"

"Well solved, Sherlock," said Sian dryly, also reading the note. She looked uneasy and said in her normal tone, "I just hope nobody else has read this ..."

"But it was still sealed and everything," I said, trying to convince myself as much as her. "And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to them before, would they?"

"I don't know," said Sian anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, "it wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic ... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network ... but I don't really see how we can warn them not to come without _that_ being intercepted, too!"

We trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, the four of us lost in thought, but as we reached the bottom of the steps we were recalled to ourselves by the voice of Dani Malty, who stood just outside Triphorm's classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that we heard every word.

"Yeah, Umber gave the Snake-Eyes Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway. I went to ask him first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, he knows my mother really well, she's always popping in and out of the Ministry ... it'll be interesting to see whether Lion-Heart are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Sian whispered warningly to Chrissie and I, as we watched Malty with our faces set and our fists clenched. "It's what she wants."

"I mean," said Malty, raising her voice a little more, her grey eyes glittering malevolently in mine and Chrissie's direction, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance ... from what my mother says, they're looking for a good reason to get rid of Matthew Dawson, after the way his family have fallen ... and as for Pride-Lander ... my mother says it's only a matter of time before the Ministry has her carried off to St Mungo's ... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

Malty made a grotesque face, her mouth sagging open and her eyes rolling. Crate and Gabber made their usual grunts of laughter; Parry Parker howled with glee.

Something then collided hard with my shoulder, which knocked me sideways. A second later I realised that Nikita had just charged past me, heading straight for Malty.

"Nikita, _no_!"

I leapt forward and seized the back of Nikita's robes; Nikita struggled frantically, her fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malty who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.

"Help me!" I flung at Chris and Chrissie, who managed to get an arm each around Nikita's neck and dragged her backwards, away from Snake-Eyes. Crate and Gabber flexed their arms as they stepped in front of Malty, ready for the fight. Chris and Chrissie then seized an arm of Nikita's and together Chris, Chrissie and I succeeded in dragging Nikita back into the Lion-Heart line. Nikita's face was scarlet; the pressure I exerted on her throat rendered her quite incomprehensible, , but odd words spluttered from her mouth.

"Not ... funny ... don't ... Mungo's ... show ... her ..."

The dungeon door opened. Triphorm appeared there. Her icy-blue eyes swept the Lion-Heart line to the point where Chris, Chrissie and I wrestled with Nikita.

"Fighting Pride-Lander, Dawson, Rickers, Bore?" Triphorm said in her cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Lion-Heart. Release Bore, Pride-Lander, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

I let go of Nikita, who stood panting and glaring at me.

"I had to stop you," I gasped, picking up my bag. "Crate and Gabber would've torn you apart."

Nikita said nothing; she merely snatched up her own bag and stalked off into the dungeon.

"What in the name of Merlin," said Chris slowly, as we followed Nikita, "was _that_ about?"

I did not answer. I knew exactly why the subject of people who were in St Mungo's because of magical damage to their brains was highly distressing to Nikita, but I had sworn to Crighton that I wouldn't tell anyone Nikita's secret. Even Nikita didn't know I knew at this point.

Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I took our usual seats at the back of the class, pulled out parchment, quills and our copies of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. The class around us were whispering about what Nikita had just done, but when Triphorm closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everyone immediately fell silent.

"You will notice," said Triphorm, in her low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."

She gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and I saw Professor Umber sitting there, clipboard on his knee. I glanced sideways at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, my eyebrows raised. Triphorm and Umber, the two teachers I hated the most; it was hard for me to decide which one I wanted to triumph over the other.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend - instructions - " she waved her wand again " - on the board. Carry on."

Professor Umber spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in his corner. I was very interested in him questioning Triphorm; so interested, that I remember that I was becoming careless with my potion again.

"Salamander blood, Kiara!" Sian moaned, grabbing my wrist to prevent me adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"

"Right," I said vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umber got to his feet. "Ha," I said softly, as he strode between two lines of desks towards Triphorm, who was bent over Dena Wright's cauldron.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," he said briskly to Triphorm's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that were removed from the syllabus."

Triphorm straightened up slowly and turned to look at him.

"Now ... how long have you been teaching at Dragon Mort?" he asked, his quill poised over his clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Triphorm replied. Her expression was unfathomable. As I was watching her closely, I added a few drops to my potion, which hissed and turned from turquoise to orange.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umber asked Triphorm.

"Yes," said Triphorm quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Triphorm's lip curled.

"Obviously."

Professor Umber scribbled on his clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Triphorm quietly, barely moving her lips. She looked very angry.

"Do you have any idea why Crighton has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umber.

"I suggest you ask her," said Triphorm jerkily.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umber, with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Triphorm asked, her icy-blue eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umber, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers - er - backgrounds."

He turned away, walked over to Parry Parker and began questioning him about the lessons. Triphorm looked round at me and our eyes met for a second. I hastily dropped my gaze to my potion, which congealed foully and gave off a strong smell of burned rubber.

"No marks again, then, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm maliciously, emptying my cauldron with a wave of her wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," I said furiously. Triphorm had already given us homework and I had Quidditch practice that evening; this meant another couple of sleepless nights. It did not seem possible that I had awoken Monday morning feeling very happy. All I remember feeling at that moment was a fervent desire for that day to end.

"Maybe I'll skip Divination," I said glumly, as we stood in the courtyard after lunch, with the wind whipping at the hems of our robes. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Triphorm's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night."

"You can't skive off Divination," said Sian severely.

"Hark who's talking, sister; you walked out of Divination. You hate Crystals!" said Chrissie indignantly.

"I don't _hate_ him," said Sian loftily. "I just think he's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud. But Kiara's already missed History of Magic and I don't think she ought to miss anything else today!"

There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later I took my seat in the hot, overperfumed atmosphere in the Divination classroom, feeling angry at everybody. Professor Crystals was yet again handing out copies of _The Dream Oracle_. I thought I'd surely be much better employed doing Triphorm's punishment essay than sitting in that classroom and trying to find meaning in a lot of made-up dreams.

It seemed, however, that I was not the only person in Divination who had a temper that afternoon. Professor Crystals slammed a copy of the _Oracle_ down at the table between Chrissie and I and swept away, his lips pursed; he threw the next copy of the _Oracle_ at Zara and Dena, narrowly avoiding Zara's head, and thrust the final one into Nikita's chest with such force that she slipped off her pouffe.

"Well, carry on!" said Professor Crystals loudly, his voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical. "You know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?"

We all stared perplexedly at him, then at each other. I, however, thought I knew what was the matter. As Professor Crystals flounced back to the high-backed teacher's chair, his magnified eyes full of angry tears, I leaned my head closer to Chrissie's and muttered, "Ithink he's got the results of his inspection back."

"Professor?" said Perry Party in a hushed voice (he and Larry had always rather admired Professor Crystals). "Professor, is there anything - er - wrong?"

"Wrong!" cried Professor Crystals in a voice that throbbed with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly ... insinuations have been made against me ... unfounded accusations levelled ... but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not!"

He took a great shuddering breath and turned away from Perry, angry tears spilling from under his glasses.

"I say nothing," he choked, "of sixteen years devoted service ... it has passed, apparently, unnoticed ... but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!"

"But, Professor, who's insulting you?" asked Perry timidly.

"The Establishment!" said Professor Crystals, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. "Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know .. of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted ... it is - alas - our fate!"

He gulped, dabbed at his cheeks with the end of one of his scarves, then he pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from his sleeve, and blew his nose very hard with a sound like Weeves blowing a raspberry.

Chrissie sniggered. Larry shot her a disgusted look.

"Professor," said Perry, "do you mean ... is it something Professor Umber - ?"

"Do not speak to me about that man!" cried Professor Crystals, leaping to his feet, his beads rattling and his spectacles flashing. "Kindly continue with your work!"

And he spent the rest of the lesson strolling among us, tears still leaking from behind his glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under his breath.

" ... may well choose to leave ... the indignity of it ... on probation ... we shall see ... how he dares ..."

"You and Umber have something in common," I told Sian quietly, when Chrissie and I met her and Chris again in Defence Against the Dark Arts. "He obviously reackons Crystals is an old fraud, too ... looks like he's put him on probation."

Umber entered the room as I spoke, wearing his small black fez and an expression of great smugness.

"Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umber," we chanted dully.

"Wands away, please."

There was no answering flurry of movement that time; none of us bothered to take out our wands.

"Please turn to page thirty-four of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and read the third chapter, entitled "The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attacks". There will be - "

" - no need to talk," Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I said together, under our breaths.

0000

" _No_ Quidditch practice," said Andrew in hollow tones when Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I entered the common room after dinner that night.

"But I kept my temper!" I said, horrified. "I didn't say anything to him, Andrew, I swear, I - "

"I know, I know," said Andrew miserably. "He just said he needed a bit of time to consider."

"Consider what?" said Chrissie angrily. "He's given the Snake-Eyes permission, why not us?"

But I could easily imagine how much Umber was enjoying the threat of no Lion-Heart Quidditch team over our heads and could easily understand why he would not want to relinquish that weapon over us too soon.

"Well," said Sian, "look on the bright side - at least now you'll have time to do Triphorm's essay!"

"That's a bright side, is it?" I snapped, while Chrissie stared incredulously at Sian, and Chris shook his head at her words. "No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?"

I slumped down into a chair, dragged my Potions essay reluctantly from my bag and set to work. I found it very hard to concentrate that night; even though I knew my parents were not due in the fire until much later, but I could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Tanya and Geri appeared to have finally perfected one of type of Gross Body Boxes, which they took in turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd.

First, Tanya would take a bite out of a black end of a chew, at which she would grow extra layers of teeth, kind of like a shark. Then she would chew the pink end, and the extra teeth came pouring out of her mouth and fell into the bucket, which made a few girls scream, but then she raised her head and, when the crowd saw that her original teeth were still in place, there were sounds of relief and laughter. Leah Jones, who assisted the demonstration, lazily Vanished the extra teeth at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Triphorm used on my potions.

With the regular sounds of teeth hitting a bucket, cheering and the sound of Tanya and Geri taking advance orders from the crowd, I found it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solution. Sian wasn't any help, for the cheers and the sound of teeth hitting the bottom of Tanya and Geri's bucket were punctuated by her loud and disapproving sniffs, which I found, if anything, more distracting.

"Just go and stop them, then!" I said irritably, after I crossed out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time.

"I can't, they're not _technically_ do anything wrong," said Sian through gritted teeth. "They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are."

She, Chris, Chrissie and I watched Geri grow extra teeth, then gulped down the rest of the chew, spit teeth into the bucket and straighten up, beaming with her original teeth still intact to protracted applause.

"You know, I don't get why Tanya and Geri only got three OWLs each," I said, watching as Tanya , Geri and Leah collected gold from the eager crowd. "They really know their stuff."

"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone," said Sian disparagingly.

"Oh come on, Sian," said Chris imploringly, "give them some credit. They've made about twenty-six Galleons already."

"Yeah, not too shabby for a couple of girls who only know _"_ _flashy_ stuff", eh, Sian?" said Chrissie, smiling at her sister. Sian glared at her.

It was a long while before the crowd around the Fang twins dispersed, then Tanya, Leah and Geri sat up counting their takings even longer, so it was well past midnight when Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I finally had the common room to ourselves. At long last, Tanya had closed the doorway to the girls' dormitories behind her, rattling her box of Galleons ostentatiously so that Sian scowled. I had made very little progress with my Potions essay, so I decided to give it up for the night. As I was putting my books away, Chrissie, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire.

"Simba! Nala!" she said.

I whipped round. My parents' heads were sitting in the fire again.

"Hi," Mum said, she and my father beaming.

"Hi," Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I chorused, the four of us kneeling down on the hearthrug. Lucifer purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face as close to my parents' faces as possible.

"How're things?" said my father.

"Not that good," I said, as Sian pulled Lucifer back to stop him singeing his whiskers. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams - "

"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" said my father, his eyebrows raised, as Mum bit her lip to hold back a chuckle.

There was a short pause.

"How do you know about that?" I demanded.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Mum, grinning broadly. "The Dragon's Eye, I ask you."

"Well, it was better than the Flying Owls!" said Sian defensively. "That's always packed with people - "

"Which mean you'd have been harder to overhear," said my father. "I'm quite surprised at you, Sian, for I thought you were smarter than that. You've got a lot to learn."

"Who overheard us?" I demanded.

"Mona, of course," said Mum, and she and my father laughed at our puzzled looks. "She was the covered-up wizard."

"That was Mona?" I said, stunned. "What was she doing in the Dragon's Eye?"

"What do you think she was doing?" said my father impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"I'm still being followed?" I said angrily.

"Yes, you are," said Mum, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group."

But she looked neither angry or worried. On the contrary, my mother looked at me with distinct pride - my father, on the other hand, did not seem too happy about this.

"Why was Fetch hiding from us?" said Chrissie, sounding disappointed. "We'd've liked to see her."

"She was banned from the Dragon's Eye twenty years ago," said Mum, "and that barmaid's got a long memory. We lost Grumpy's spare Invisibility Cloak when Simone was arrested, so Fetch's been dressing as a wizard a lot lately ... anyway ... first of all, Chris, Sian and Chrissie - we've sworn to pass on a message from Sarabi."

"What's she said?" Sian asked steadily. Chris and Chrissie shared apprehensive looks.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your futures will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time for you to learn how to defend yourselves later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now, though she accepts that she has no authority over Chris, Sian and Chrissie and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart - including yours, of course, Kiara. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?" said Chrissie quickly.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said my father. "So it's fallen to us to be the messengers and make sure you tell her we passed it on, because I'm not sure she trusts us - well, Nala more than me."

"Simba!" said my mother indignantly. My father raised his eyebrows at her and after a few moments she reluctantly nodded her head.

There was then another pause in which Lucifer, mewing, attempted to paw my parents' heads and Chrissie fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug.

"So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?" I muttered finally.

"Me? Certainly not!" said Mum, who looked surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

"Normally, I would be against anything like this," said my father, "but in this case, considering everything that's going on, I agree with you mother, Kiara, in saying that this is something you should do."

"You do?" I said, my heart lifting.

"Of course we do!" said Mum. "Do you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from a monster like Umber?"

"But - last term all you both did was tell me to be careful and not to take risks - "

"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Dragon Mort was trying to kill you, Kiara!" said my father impatiently. "This year, we know there's someone outside Dragon Mort who'd like to kill us all, so your mother and I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we get expelled?" Sian asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"Sian, this whole thing was your idea!" I said, staring at her.

"I know it was. I just want to know what your parents think, Kiara, that's all," she said, shrugging.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting in school without a clue," said my father. "For after all, we adults can't always be around to save your kid's necks, you know."

"Hear, hear," Chris, Chrissie and I said enthusiastically.

"So," said Mum, "how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," I said. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."

"How about the Howling House?" suggested Mum.

"Hey, that's an idea!" said Chrissie excitedly, but Chris looked unconvinced, and Sian made a sceptical noise and the five of us looked at her, my parents' heads turning in the flames.

"Well, Nala, it's just that there were four of you meeting in the Howling House when you were at school," said Sian, "and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you wanted to. But there are forty-four of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee - "

"Fair point," said Mum, who looked slightly crestfallen. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor; you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there."

"Tanya and Geri told me it's blocked," I said, shaking my head. "Caved in or something."

"Oh," said Mum, frowning. "Well, we'll have to think and get back to - "

She broke off. My parents' faces were suddenly tense, alarmed. Together, they turned their heads sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

"Daddy? Mum?" I said anxiously.

But they had vanished. I gaped at the flames for a moment, shocked and saddened, before I turned to Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"Where did they - ?"

Sian gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.

A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.

The four of us ran for it. At the stairs leading to the dormitories I looked back. Umber's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though he knew exactly where my parents' heads had been moments before and was determined to seize them.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

 **Crighton's Army**

 **KIARA**

"Umber has been reading your mail, Kiara. There's no other explanation."

"You think Umber attacked Harold?" I said, outraged.

"I'm almost certain of it," said Sian grimly. "Watch your frog, it's escaping."

I pointed my wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table - _"Accio!"_ \- and it zoomed gloomily back into my hand.

Charms was always the best lesson in which to enjoy a private conversation; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. That day, the room was full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and there was a heavy downpour of rain that clattered and pounded the classroom windows, so our - Chris, Sian, Chrissie's and mine - whispered conversation about how Umber nearly caught my parents went quite unnoticed.

"I've been suspecting this ever since Match accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie," Sian whispered. "I mean, once your letter had been read it would have been quite clear you _weren't_ ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all - it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umber to manage it - tip off Match, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it - I don't think Match wold object - after all, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Kiara, you're squashing your frog."

I looked down; I was indeed squeezing my frog so hard that its eyes were popping; I replaced it hastily upon the desk.

"It was a very, very close call last night," said Sian. "I just wonder if Umber knows how close it was. _Silencio!_ "

The bullfrog on which she was practicing her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully.

"If he'd caught Leo and Leona - "

I finished the thought for her.

"They'd have been put back in Azkaban this morning." I waved my wand without really concentrating ; my bullfrog swelled like a green balloon and emitted a high-pitched whistle.

 _"Silencio!"_ said Sian hastily, pointing her wand at my frog, which deflated silently before us. "Well, they mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let them know. We can't send them an owl."

"I don't reckon they'll risk it again," said Chrissie. "They're not stupid, they know he nearly got them. _Silencio!_ "

The large and ugly raven in front of her let out a derisive caw.

 _"Silencio! SILENCIO!"_

The raven cawed even more loudly.

"It's the way you're moving your wand," said Chris, who was watching Chrissie critically as well as Sian, "you don't wave it, it's more a sharp _jab_."

"Ravens are harder than frogs," said Chrissie through clenched teeth.

"Fine, let's swap," said Sian, seizing Chrissie's raven and replacing it with her own bullfrog. _"Silencio!"_ The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.

"Very good, Eldest Dawson Girl!" said Professor Winds' squeaky little voice, which made Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I all jump. "Now, let me see you try, Miss Dawson."

"Wha - ? Oh - oh, right," said Chrissie, very flustered. "Er - _Silencio_!"

She jabbed the bullfrog so hard she poked it in the eye; the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk. Chris tried next and was slightly more successful than Chrissie, for he made his raven's caw diminish a little.

It came as no surprise to any of us that Chris, Chrissie and I were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework.

We were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. We found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor in which Weeves floated dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. We had barely sat down when Andrew came struggling towards us through the groups of gossiping students.

"I've got permission!" he said. "To re-from the Quidditch team!"

 _"Excellent!"_ said Chrissie and I together.

"Yeah," said Andrew, grinning. "I went to Darbus and I _think_ she might have appealed to Crighton. Anyway, Umber had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?"

He squeezed away from us, narrowly dodging an ink pellet from Weeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight.

Chrissie's smile slipped slightly as she looked out of the window, which was now opaque with hammering rain.

"I hope this clears up for you," said Chris, who was also looking out the window.

"Me too," said Chrissie. She then turned to Sian, who was also gazing out the window, but she didn't really see it; her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face. "What's with you, Sian?"

"Just thinking ... " she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.

"About my par - about Leo and Leona?" I said.

"No ... not exactly ... " said Sian slowly. "More ... wondering ... I suppose we're doing the right thing ... I think ... aren't we?"

Chris, Chrissie and I looked at each other.

"Well, that clears that up," said Chrissie. "It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly.

Sian looked at her as though she had only just realised her sister was there.

"I was just wondering," she said, her voice stronger, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group."

"What?" said Chris, Chrissie and I together.

"Sian, this was your idea in the first place!" said Chris indignantly.

"I know," said Sian, twisting her fingers together. "But after talking to Leo and Leona ..."

"But they're all for it - even my father," I said.

"Yes," said Sian, staring at the window again. "Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all ..."

Weeves floated over us on her stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically the four of us lifted our bags to cover our heads until she passed.

"Let's get this straight," I said angrily, as we put our bags back on the floor, "my parents agree with us, so you don't think we should do it any more?"

Sian looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands, she said, "Do you honestly trust their judgement?"

"Yes, I do!" I said at once. "They're my parents, Sian! If I don't trust them, then how can I trust anyone? Besides, they've always given us great advice!"

An ink pellet whizzed past us, and struck Keith Ball square in the ear. Sian watched Keith leap to his feet and start throwing things at Weeves; it was a few minutes before Sian spoke again and it sounded as though she was choosing her words very carefully.

"You don't think they've become - your mother more than your father, Kiara - sort of ... reckless ... since they've been cooped up in Pimbaa's house? You don't think they're ... kind of ... living through us?"

"What d'you mean, "living through us"?" I retorted.

"I mean ... I think they - or rather, your mother - would love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think they - oh fine, your mother - " she said, after I raised my eyebrows, " - is really frustrated at how little she can do where she is, even though Simba's doing everything he can to keep Nala from doing anything reckless ... so I think she's kind of egging us on."

"And what about my father?"

"Kiara, your father wants us to be safe, that's the only reason he's all for this."

Chris and Chrissie looked utterly perplexed.

"You know, Sian," said Chris, "sometimes you sound a lot like both Sarabi and Ma."

"Yeah," said Chrissie, shuddering. "It's spooky ..."

Sian bit her lip and said nothing. The bell rang just as Weeves swooped down on Keith and emptied an entire ink bottle over his head.

0000

The weather did not improve as the day wore on, so at seven o'clock that evening, when Chrissie and I went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice, we were soaked through within minutes, our feet slipping and sliding on the sodden grass. The sky was a deep, thundery grey and it was a relief to gain the warmth and light of the changing rooms, even if we knew the respite was only temporary. We found Tanya and Geri debating whether to use one of their own Gross Body Boxes to get out of flying.

" ... but I bet he'd know what we'd done," Tanya said out of the corner of her mouth. "If only I hadn't offered to sell him some Shrivelled-Skin Sweets yesterday."

"We could try the Boil Boiled Sweets," Geri muttered, "no one's seen that yet - "

"Does it work?" enquired Chrissie hopefully, as the hammering of the rain on the roof intensified and wind howled around the building.

"Well, yeah," said Tanya, "you get them everywhere."

"And by everywhere, she _means_ everywhere," said Geri.

"What d'you mean by - ?" Chrissie started, but at the twins' pointed looks, she quickly cottoned on. "Oh ... right ..."

"And they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the - "

"All right, everyone, listen up," said Andrew loudly, emerging from the Captain's office. "I know it's not ideal weather, but there's a chance we'll be playing Snake-Eyes in conditions like these so it's a good idea to work out how we're going to cope with them. Kiara, did you do something to your hair to keep it out of your eyes when we played Badger-Stripes in that storm?"

"Oh, Sian gave me them," I said. "But I don't have them on me right now."

"Well, I do," said Chrissie, and to everyone's surprise, she pulled out a case that was filled with different clips of all sizes. Chrissie, Tanya, Geri and I all took a couple each. I tied my hair back and pinned up my fringes.

"Good, they'll help you with visibility, as will keeping the rain off our faces. The spell's _Impervius_ , OK, so let's all do it together, come on - _Impervius_! OK. let's go."

We squelched through the deepening mud to the middle of the pitch; visibility was still very poor even with the Impervius Charm; light faded fast and curtains of rain swept the grounds.

"All right, on my whistle," shouted Andrew.

I kicked off from the ground, spraying mud in all directions, and shot upwards, with the wind pulling me slightly off course. I had no idea how I was going to see the Snitch in that weather; I had enough difficulty seeing the one Bludger with which we were practicing; a minute into the practice it almost unseated me and I had to use the Sloth Grip Roll in order to avoid it. Unfortunately, Andrew did not see it. In fact, he did not appear to be able to see anything; none of us had a clue what everyone else was doing. the wind picked up; even at a distance I heard the swishing, pounding sounds of the rain that was pummelling the surface of the river.

Andrew kept us at it for nearly an hour before he conceded defeat. He led us, his sodden and disgruntled team, back into the changing rooms, insisting that the practice had not been a waste of time, though I heard no real conviction in his voice. Tanya and Geri looked particularly annoyed; both were bandy-legged and were wincing with every movement. I heard them complaining in low voices as I towelled my hair dry.

"I think a few of mine have ruptured," said Tanya in a hollow voice.

"Mine haven't," said Geri, through clenched teeth, "they're throbbing like mad ... feel bigger if anything."

"OUCH!" I said.

I pressed the towel to my face, my eyes screwed tightly with pain. The scar on my forehead had seared again, more painfully than it had done in weeks at that point in time.

"What's up?" said several voices around me.

I emerged from behind the towel; everyone was looking at me.

"Nothing," I muttered. "I - poked myself in the eye, that's all."

But I gave Chrissie a significant look and the two of us hung back as the rest of our team filed back outside, muffled in their cloaks.

"What happened?" said Chrissie, the moment Aaron had disappeared through the door. "Was it your scar?"

I nodded.

"But ..." looking scared, Chrissie strode across to the window and stared out into the rain, "she - she can't hear us now, can she?"

"No," I muttered, as I sank on to a bench and rubbed my forehead. "She's probably miles away. It hurt because ... she's ... angry."

I head not meant to say that at all, and I heard the words as though a stranger had spoken them - yet I knew at once they were true. I did not know how I knew it, but I did; Zira, wherever she was, whatever she was doing, had a towering temper at that moment.

"Did you see her?" said Chrissie, looking horrified. "Did you ... get a vision or something?"

I sat quite still, staring at my feet, as I allowed my mind and my memory to relax in the aftermath of the pain.

A confused tangle of shapes, a howling rush of voices ...

"She wants something done, and it's not happening fast enough," I said.

Again, I felt surprised to hear the words coming out of my mouth, and yet I was quite certain that they were true.

"But ... how do you know?" said Chrissie.

I shook my head and covered my eyes with my hands, and I pressed down upon them with my palms. Little stars erupted in them. I felt Chrissie sit down on the bench beside me and I knew that Chrissie was staring at me.

"Is this what it was about last time?" said Chrissie in a hushed voice. "When your scar hurt in Umber's office? She-You-Know was angry?"

I shook my head.

"What is it, then?"

I thought back to that moment in Umber's office. I had been looking into Umber's face ... my scar had hurt ... and I had had that odd feeling in my stomach ... a strange, leaping feeling ... a _happy_ feeling ... but of course, I had not recognised it for what it was, as I had felt so miserable at the time ...

"Last time, it was because she was pleased," I said. "Really pleased. She thought ... something good was going to happen. And the night before we came back to Dragon Mort ..." I thought back to the moment when my scar hurt so badly in mine and Chrissie's room at Pumbaa's house ... "she was furious ..."

I looked round at Chrissie, who was gaping at me.

"You could take over from Crystals, mate," she said in an awed voice.

"I'm not making prophecies," I said.

"No, you know what you're doing?" Chrissie said, sounding both scared and impressed. "Kiara, _you're reading She-You-Know's mind_!"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's more like ... her mood, I suppose. I'm just getting flashes of what mood she's in. Crighton said something like this was happening last year. She said that when Zira was near me, or when she was feeling hatred, I could tell. Well, now I'm feeling it when she's pleased, too ..."

There was a pause. Wind and rain lashed at the building.

"You've got to tell someone," said Chrissie.

"I told my parents last time."

"Well, tell them this time! Or Sarabi, I'm sure she'd want to know!"

"Can't, can I?" I said grimly. "Umber is watching the owls and the fires, remember?"

"Well then, Ma."

"I've told you, she already knows," I said shortly as I got to my feet, took my cloak off my peg and swung it around me. "There's no point telling her again."

Chrissie fastened up her own cloak, watching me thoughtfully.

"Ma'd want to know," she said.

I shrugged.

"C'mon ... we've still got Silencing Charms to practice."

We hurried back through the dark grounds, sliding and stumbling up the muddy lawns, neither one of us talking. I was thinking hard (and it didn't take a genius to work out what about). I remember asking myself what it was that Zira wanted done that was not happening fast enough for her?

 _" ... she's got other plans ... plans she can put into operation very quietly indeed ... stuff she can only get done by stealth ... like a weapon. Something she didn't have last time."_

I had not thought about those words since I had been back at Dragon Mort that year; I had been too absorbed in what was going on at Dragon Mort, too busy dwelling on the ongoing battle with Umber, the injustice of all the Ministry interference ... but they came back to me then and made me wonder ... Zira's anger would make sense if she was no nearer laying her hands on the _weapon_ , whatever that was. Had the Order thwarted her, stopped her from seizing it? Where was it kept? Who had it now?

 _"Mimbulus Mimbletonia,"_ said Chrissie's voice, and I came back to my senses just in time to clamber through the portrait hole into the common room.

It appeared that Sian (along with Chris) had gone to bed early, leaving Lucifer curled in a nearby chair and an assortment of knobbly knitted elf hats lying on a table by the fire. I was rather grateful that they weren't around, because I did not much want to discuss my scar hurting and have them both urging me to go to Crighton, too. Chrissie kept throwing me anxious glances, but I pulled out my Charms books and set to work on finishing my essay, though I only pretended to concentrate and by the time Chrissie said she was going to bed, too, I had hardly written anything.

Midnight came and went while I was reading and re-reading about a passage about the uses of scurvy-grass, lovage and sneezewort, but I didn't take in a single word of it.

 _These plantes are moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much use in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness ..._

... Sian said my par - my mother, was becoming reckless being cooped up in Pumbaa's house ...

 _... moste efficacious in the inflaming of the braine, and are therefore much used ..._

... the _Daily Squabbler_ would've thought my brain was inflamed if they had found out back then that I knew what Zira felt ...

 _... therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts ..._

... confusing was the word, all right; I wanted to know _why_ I knew what Zira was feeling, and what this weird connection we shared was, which Crighton had never been able to explain satisfactorily (of course, I would eventually have all the answers, and boy was I shocked two years after this, but we'll get there).

 _... where the wizard is desirous ..._

... oh, how I wanted to sleep ...

 _... of producing hot-headedness ..._

... it was warm and comfortable in my armchair before the fire, with the rain still beating heavily on the windowpanes, Lucifer purring, and the crackling of the flames ...

The book slipped from my slack grip and landed with a dull thud on the hearthrug. My head lolled sideways ...

I was walking once more along a windowless corridor, my footsteps echoing in the silence. As the door at the end of the passage loomed larger, my heart beat faster with excitement with every step I took ... if I could only open it ... enter beyond ...

I stretched out my hand ... my fingertips were inches from it ...

"Kiara Pride-Lander, miss!"

I awoke with a start. The candles had all been extinguished in the common room, but something moved close by.

"Whozair?" I said, as I sat upright in my chair. The fire was almost out, the room was very dark.

"Dokey has your owl, miss!" said a squeaky voice.

"Dokey?" I said thickly, peering through the gloom towards the source of the voice.

Dokey the house-elf was standing beside the table on which Sian had left half a dozen of her knitted hats. Her large, pointed ears stuck out from beneath what appeared to be all the hats Sian had ever knitted; she wore one on top of the other, so that her head seemed elongated by two or three feet, and on the very topmost bobble sat Harold, who was hooting serenely, obviously cured.

"Dokey volunteered to return Kiara Pride-Lander's owl," said the elf squeakily, with a look of positive adoration on her face, "Professor Smutty-Stave says he is all well now, miss." She sank into a deep curtsey so that her pencil-like nose brushed the threadbare surface of the hearthrug and Harold gave an indignant hoot and fluttered on to the arm of my chair.

"Thanks, Dokey!" I said, as I stroked Harold's head and blinked hard, trying to rod myself of the image of the door in my dream ... it had been very vivid. I surveyed Dokey more closely, and as I did, I noticed that the elf also wore several scarves and innumerable socks, so that her feet looked far too big for her body.

"Er ... have you been taking all the clothes Sian's been leaving out?"

"Oh, no, miss," said Dokey happily. "Dokey has been taking some for Blinky, too, miss."

"And how is Blinky?" I asked.

Dokey's ears drooped slightly.

"Blinky is still drinking lots, miss," she said sadly, her enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. "He still does not care for clothes, Kiara Pride-Lander, nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Lion-Heart Tower any more, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere. They finds them insulting, miss. Dokey does it all herself, miss, but Dokey does not mind, miss, for she always hopes to meet Kiara Pride-Lander and tonight, miss, she has got her wish!" Dokey sank into a deep curtsey again. "But Kiara Pride-Lander does not seem happy," Dokey went on, straightening her back and looking timidly at me. "Dokey heard her muttering in her sleep. Was Kiara Pride-Lander having bad dreams?"

"Not really bad," I said, as I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "I've had worse."

The elf surveyed me out of her vast, orb-like eyes. Then she said very seriously, her ears drooping, "Dokey wishes she could help Kiara Pride-Lander, for Kiara Pride-Lander set Dokey free and Dokey is much, much happier now."

I smiled at her happiness.

"You can't help me, Dokey, but thanks for the offer."

I bent and picked up my Potions book. I knew I'd have to try and finish the essay the next day. I closed the book and as I did so, the firelight illuminated the thin white scars on the back of my hand - the result of my detentions with Umber ...

"Wait a moment - there _is_ something you can do for me, Dokey," I said slowly.

The elf looked round, beaming.

"Name it, Kiara Pride-Lander, miss!"

"I need to know a place where forty-four people can practice Defence Against the Dark Arts without being discovered by any of the teachers. Especially," I clenched my hand on the book, so that the scars shone pearly white, "Professor Umber."

I expected the elf's smile to vanish, her ears to droop; I expected her to say it was impossible, or else that she would try to find somewhere, but her hopes were not high. What I had not expected was for Dokey to give a little skip, her ears waggling cheerfully, and clap her hands together.

"Dokey knows the perfect place, miss!" she said happily. "Dokey heard tell of it from other house-elves when she came to Dragon Mort, miss. It is known by us as the Materialise and Disappearance Room, miss, or else as the Room of Needs!"

"Why?" I said curiously.

"Because it is a room a person can only enter," said Dokey seriously, "when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker's needs. Dokey has used it, miss," said the elf, dropping her voice and looking guilty, "when Blinky has been very drunk; she has hidden him in the Room of Needs and she has found antidotes to Butterbeer up there, and a nice elf-sized bed to settle him on while he sleeps it off, miss ... and Dokey knows Mr Match has found extra cleaning materials there when he has run short, miss, and - "

"And if you really needed a bathroom," I said, suddenly remembering something Crighton had said at the Yule Ball in my fourth year, "would it fill itself with chamber pots?"

"Dokey expects so, miss," said Dokey, nodding earnestly. "It is a most amazing room, miss."

"How many people know about it?" I said, as I sat up straighter in my chair.

"Very few, miss. Mostly people stumbles across it when they needs it, miss, but often they never finds it again, for they do not know that it is always there waiting to be called into service, miss."

"It sounds brilliant," I said, my heart racing. "It sounds perfect, Dokey. When can you show me where it is?"

"Any time, Kiara Pride-Lander, miss," said Dokey, who looked delighted at my enthusiasm. "We could go now, if you like!"

For a moment I was tempted to go with Dokey. I was halfway out of my seat, intending to hurry upstairs for my Invisibility Cloak when, not for the first time, a voice very much like Sian's whispered a single word in my ear: _reckless_. It was, after all, very late; I was exhausted, and I had Triphorm's essay to finish.

"Not tonight, Dokey," I said reluctantly, as I sank back into my chair. "This is really important ... I don't want to blow it, it'll need proper planning. Listen, can you just tell me exactly where this Room of Needs is and how to get in there?"

0000

Our robes billowed and swirled around us as we splashed across the flooded vegetable patch to double Herbology, where we hardly heard a word Spud said over the hammering of raindrops that were as hard as hailstones on the greenhouse roof. I remember that afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures lesson was relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor and, to our immense relief, Andrew sought out his team at lunch to tell us that Quidditch practice was cancelled.

"Good," I said quietly, when he had told us, "because we've found somewhere to have our first Defence meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barbara the Barmy being clubbed by those ogres. Can you tell Keith and Aaron?"

He looked slightly taken aback but promised to tell the others. I then returned hungrily to my sausages and mash. When I looked up to take a swig of pumpkin juice, I found Sian watching me.

"What?" I said thickly.

"Well ... it's just that Dokey's plans aren't always that safe. Don't you remember when she lost you all the bones in your arm?"

"This room isn't just some mad idea of Dokey's; Crighton knows about it, too, she mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball."

Sian's expression cleared.

"Ma told you about it?"

"Just in passing," I said, shrugging.

"Oh, well, that's all right then," said Sian briskly, and no more objections were raised.

Together, the two of us with Chris and Chrissie spent most of that day seeking out those people who had signed their names to the list in the Dragon's Eye and we told them where to meet that evening. Somewhat to my disappointment, it was Chris who managed to find Khan Chan first; however, by the end of dinner I felt confident that the news had been passed to every one of the forty people who had turned up in the Dragon's Eye.

At half past seven that evening Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I left the Lion-Heart common room. I was clutching a certain piece of aged parchment in my hand. Fifth-years were allowed to be out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but the four of us kept looking around nervously as we made our way along the seventh floor.

"Hold it," I warned, as I unfolded the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapped it with my wand and muttered, _"I solemnly swear that I shall do no good."_

A map of Dragon Mort appeared on the blank surface of the parchment. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed where various people were.

"Match is on the second floor," I said, holding the map close to my eyes, "and Mrs Robbs is on the fourth."

"And Umber?" said Sian anxiously.

"In his office," I said, pointing. "OK, let's go."

We hurried along the corridor to the place Dokey had described to me, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barbara's foolish attempts to train ogres for the ballet.

"OK," I said quietly, while a moth-eaten ogre paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch us. "Dokey said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."

We did so, turning sharply at the window just behind the blank stretch of wall, then at the man-sized vase on its other side. Chris had his eyes screwed up in concentration; Sian whispered something under her breath; Chrissie stared at her hands and my fists were clenched as I stared straight ahead.

 _We need somewhere to learn to fight_ ... I thought. _Just give us a place to practice ... somewhere they can't find us ..._

"Kiara!" said Sian sharply, as we wheeled around after our third walk past.

A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Chrissie looked at it, slightly wary. I reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled the door open and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches that were like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below.

The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that I was sure hung, the previous year, in the fake Grumpy's office.

"These will be good when we're practicing Stunning," said Chrissie enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with her foot.

"And just look at these books!" said Sian excitedly, as she ran a finger along the spines of one of the large leather-bound tomes. " _A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions_ ... _The Dark Arts Outsmarted_ ... _Self-Defensive Spellwork_ ... wow ..." She looked around at me, her face glowing and I saw that the presence of hundreds of bookshad finally convinced Sian that we were doing the right thing. "Kiara, this is wonderful, there's everything we need here!"

And without further ado she slid _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. I looked round. Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben, Dave, Nikita, Larry, Perry, Dena, Sarah and Chris had arrived.

"Whoa," said Dena, staring around, sounding impressed. "What is this place?"

I began to explain, but before I had finished more people had arrived and I had to start all over again. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied. I moved across to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock; it clicked in a satisfyingly loud way and everyone fell silent, all of them looking at me. Sian carefully marked her page of _Jinxes for the Jinxed_ and set the book aside.

"Well," I said, slightly nervously. "This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've - er - obviously found it OK."

"It's fantastic!" said Khan, and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," said Tanya, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Match in here, remember, Geri? But it was just a broom cupboard then."

"Hey, Kiara, what's this stuff?" asked Dena from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.

"Dark detectors," I said, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled ..."

I gazed for a moment into the cracked Foe-Glass; shadowy figures were moving around inside it, though none were recognisable. I turned my back on it.

"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and - er - " I noticed a raised hand. "What, Sian?"

"I think we ought to elect a leader," said Sian.

"Kiara's leader," said Khan at once, looking at Sian as though he thought she was mad.

My stomach did yet another back-flip and I felt my cheeks getting warm.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," said Sian, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives her authority. So - everyone who thinks Kiara ought to be our leader?"

Everyone put up their hands, even Zhi Smith, though she did it very half-heartedly.

"Er - right, thanks," I said, as my face got even hotter. "And - _what_ , Sian?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umber League?" said Andrew hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" suggested Tanya.

"I was thinking," said Sian, frowning at Tanya, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."

"The Cover Association?" said Khan. "The CA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"

"Yeah, the CA's good," said Chris. "Only let's make it stand for Crighton's Army, because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.

"All in favour of the CA?" said Sian bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count. "That's a majority - motion passed!"

She pinned the piece of parchment with all of our signatures on it on to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:

CRIGHTON'S ARMY

"Right," I said, when she had sat down again, "shall we get practicing, then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is _Expelliarmus_ , you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful - "

"Oh, _please_ ," said Zhi Smith, rolling her eyes and folding her arms. "I don't think _Expelliarmus_ is exactly going to help us against She-You-Know, do you?"

"I've used it against her," I said quietly, "and I'm sorry, but do I look dead to you from using it?"

Smith opened her mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," I said.

Smith did not move. Nor did anyone else.

"OK," I said, my mouth slightly drier than usual with all those eyes on me, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

I found it very odd to be issuing instructions, but not nearly as odd as seeing them followed. Everyone got to their feet and divided up (Sian took pity on Keziah and paired with her; Keziah shot her a grateful smile). Predictably, Nikita was left partnerless.

"You can practice with me," I told her. "Right - on the count of three, then - one, two, three - "

The room was full of shouts of _Expelliarmus_. Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. I was too quick for Nikita, whose wand went spinning out of her hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which I retrieved it with a Summoning Charm. Glancing around, I thought I had been right to suggest we practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in Disarming the opponents at all, but merely caused them to jump backwards a few paces or wince as their feeble spell whooshed over them.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_ said Nikita, and seeing as I was caught unawares, my wand naturally flew out of my hand.

"I DID IT!" said Nikita gleefully. "I've never done it before - I DID IT!"

"Good one!" I said encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real duel Nikita's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with her wand held loosely at her side. "Listen, Nikita, can you take it in turns to practice with Chris and Chrissie for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the others are doing?"

I moved off into the middle of the room where I saw something very odd happening to Zhi Smith. Every time she opened her mouth to disarm Annabelle Goldform, her own wand flew out of her hand, yet Annabelle didn't make a sound. I did not have to look far to solve the mystery: Tanya and Geri were several feet from Smith and took it in turns to point their wands at her back.

"Sorry, Kiara," said Geri hastily, when I caught her eye. "Couldn't resist."

I walked around the other pairs, trying to correct those who did the spell wrong. Sian was doing very well (to no one's surprise), but either Keziah was very bad or was unwilling to jinx her. Emily Mack flourished her wand unnecessarily, giving her partner time to get in under her guard; the McCreevy sisters were enthusiastic but erratic and mainly responsible for all the books leaping off the shelves around them; Lincoln Lovedream was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Kestrel's wand spinning out of her hand, at other times merely causing her hair to stand on end.

"OK, stop!" I shouted. _"Stop! STOP!"_

 _I need a whistle_ , I thought, and immediately I spotted one lying on top of the nearest row of books. I caught it up and blew hard. Everyone lowered their wands.

"That wasn't bad," I said, "but there's definite room for improvement." Zhi Smith glared at me. "Let's try again."

I moved off around the room, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved. I avoided going near Khan and his friend for a while, but after walking twice around every other pair in the room I could no longer ignore them."

"Oh no," said Khan rather wildly as I approached. " _Expelliarmious_! I mean, _Expellimellious_! I - oh, sorry, Maurice!"

His curly-haired friend's sleeve caught fire; Maurice extinguished it with his own wand and glared at me as though it were my fault.

"You made me nervous, I was doing all right before then!" Khan told me ruefully.

"That was quite good," I lied, but when he narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow I said, "Well, no, it was lousy, but I know you can do it properly. I was watching from over there."

He chuckled. His friend Maurice looked at us rather sourly and turned away.

"Don't mind him," Khan muttered. "He doesn't really want to come here but I made him come with me. His parents have forbidden him to do anything that might upset Umber. You see - his dad works for the Ministry."

"What about your parents?" I asked.

"Well, they've forbidden me to get on the wrong side of Umber, too," said Khan, drawing himself up proudly. "But if they think I'm not going to fight She-You-Know after what happened to Georgia - "

He broke off, looking confused, and an awkward silence fell between us; Teri Boots' wand went whizzing past my ear and hit Aaron Spinns hard on the nose.

"Well, my mum is very supportive of the anti-Ministry action!" said Lincoln Lovedream proudly from just behind me; evidently he had been eavesdropping on my conversation while Kestrel attempted to disentangle herself from the robes that had flown up over her head (she was wearing a skirt underneath her robes, so not too much embarrassment on her part). "She's always saying she'd believe anything of Sweets; I mean, the number of fauns Sweets has had assassinated! And of course she uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible potions, which she secretly feeds to anyone who disagrees with her. And then there's her Umgubular Slashkiller - "

"Don't ask," I muttered to Khan as he opened his mouth, looking puzzled. He chuckled.

"Hey, Kiara," Sian called from the other end of the room, "have you checked the time?"

I looked down at my watch and was shocked to see it was ten past nine, which meant that we needed to get back to our common rooms immediately or risk being caught and punished by Match for being out of bounds. I blew my whistle; everyone stopped shouting _"Expelliarmus"_ and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.

"Well, that was pretty good," I said, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"

"Sooner!" said Dena Wright eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.

Andrew, however, said quickly, "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices, too!"

"Let's say next Thursday night, then," I said. "We can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going."

I pulled out the Scallywag Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. I let them all out in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots anxiously to see that they all returned safely to their dormitories: Keziah to the Snake-Eyes common room in the dungeons; the Badger-Stripes to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens; the Raven-Wings to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Lion-Hearts along the corridor to the Fat Lord's portrait.

"That was really good, Kiara," said Sian, when it was just she, Chris, Chrissie and I who were left.

"Yeah, it was!" said Chrissie enthusiastically, as we slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind us. "Did you see me disarm Chris, Kiara?"

"Only once," said Chris, his eyes clearly stung. "I got you loads more times than you got me - "

"I did not get you once, I got you at least four times - "

"Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand - "

They argued all the way back to the common room with Sian smirking at them, but I didn't listen. I had one eye on the Scallywag Map, but I was also thinking about what Khan said about me making him nervous.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

 **The Lion and the Serpent**

 **KIARA**

I remember feeling as though I were carrying some kind of talisman inside my chest over the following two weeks after our first meeting, a glowing secret that supported me through Umber's classes and even made it possible for me to smile blandly as I looked into his horrible bulging eyes. The CA and I were resisting him under his very nose, doing the very thing he and the Ministry most feared, and whenever I was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during his lessons, I dwelled instead on satisfying memories of our most recent meetings, remembering how Nikita had successfully disarmed Chrissie, how Colleen McCreevy had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' hard effort, and how Perry Party had produced such a good Reductor Curse that he had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.

I found it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for the CA meetings, as I had to accommodate three separate teams' Quidditch practices, which were often rearranged due to bad weather conditions; but I was not sorry about this; I had a feeling that it was better to keep the timing of our meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching us, it would've been hard for them to make out a pattern.

Sian soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case we needed to change it at short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often (Keziah in particular). She gave the members of the CA a fake Galleon, and as you can imagine, many were convinced that she had given each of them a real Galleon.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Sian said, holding one Galleon up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin or faun who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Kiara sets the date of the next meeting she'll change the numbers on her coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic hers."

A blank silence greeted Sian's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.

"Well - I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umber asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But ... well, if you don't want to use them - "

"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Teri Boots.

"Yes," said Sian.

"But, that's ... that's NEWT standard, that is," she said weakly.

"Oh," said Sian, trying to look modest. "Oh ... well ... yes, I suppose it is."

"How come you're not in Raven-Wings?" she demanded, staring at Sian with something close to wonder. "With brains like yours?"

"Well, the Raven-Head did seriously consider putting me in Raven-Wings during my Sorting," said Sian brightly, "but the Lion-Head put me in Lion-Heart in the end, after it listened to my thoughts. So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?"

There was a murmur of assent as we all moved forwards to collect one from the basket. I looked sideways at Sian.

"You know what these remind me of?"

"No, what's that?"

"The Love Destroyers' scars. Zira touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join her."

"Well ... yes," said Sian quietly, "that _is_ where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than our members' skin."

"Yeah ... I prefer your way," I said, grinning, as I slipped my Galleon into my pocket. "I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them."

As the first Lion-Heart match of the season - Lion-Heart versus Snake-Eyes - drew nearer, our CA meetings were put on hold because Andrew insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the Raven-Wings and Badger-Stripes were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretence of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious. I only realised how much Professor Darbus cared about beating Snake-Eyes when she abstained from giving us homework in the week leading up to the match.

"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment," she said loftily. None of us could quite believe our ears until she looked directly at Chrissie and I and said grimly, "I've become quite accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, girls, and I really don't want to hand it over to Professor Triphorm, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"

Triphorm was no less obviously partisan; she had booked the Quidditch pitch for Snake-Eyes practice so often that we Lion-Hearts had difficulty getting on it to play. She also turned a deaf ear to the many reports of Snake-Eyes attempting to hex Lion-Heart players in the corridors. When Aaron Spinns turned up in the hospital wing with his eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured his vision and obscured his mouth, Triphorm insisted that he must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on himself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Snake-Eyes Keeper, Millie Belch, hit him from behind with a jinx as he worked in the library.

I felt optimistic about Lion-Heart's chances; we had, after all, never lost to Malty's team. Admittedly, Chrissie was still not performing to Cane's standard, but she worked extremely hard to improve. Her greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence after she'd made a blunder; if she let in one goal she became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more. On the other hand, I have seen Chrissie make some truly spectacular saves when she was on form; I remember during one memorable practice she had hung one-handed from her broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goalhoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the centre hoop at the other end; the rest of us on the team felt this save compared favourably with one made by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski, some thirteen years ago. Even Tanya said that Chrissie might yet make her and Geri proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting she was their cousin, something they assured me they had been trying to deny for four years.

The thing that really worried me was how much Chrissie allowed the tactics of the Snake-Eyes team to upset her before we even got on to the pitch. Of course, I had dealt with their snide comments for over four years, so whispers of things like, "Hey, Pride-Lander, I heard Warner's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday", didn't bother me; instead of chilling me to the bone, I laughed it off. "Warner's aim's so pathetic, I'd be more worried if she was aiming for the person next to me," I retorted, which made Chris, Sian and Chrissie laugh, and had the added bonus of wiping the smirk of Parry Parker's face.

But Chrissie had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers and intimidation before this point. When Snake-Eyes, some of them seventh-years and considerably larger than she was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, "Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Dawson?" she didn't laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. When Dani Malty imitated Chrissie dropping the Quaffle (which she did whenever they came within sight of each other), Chrissie's cheeks burned red and her hands shook so badly that she was likely to drop whatever she was holding at the time, too.

And so, October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Dragon Mort were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons.

The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When I woke I looked round at Chrissie's bed and saw her sitting bolt upright, her arms around her knees, staring fixedly into space.

"You all right?" I said.

Chrissie nodded but did not speak. I was reminded forcibly of the time Chrissie had accidentally put a Slug-vomiting Charm on herself; she looked just as pale and as sweaty as she had done then, not to mention as reluctant not to open her mouth.

"You just need some breakfast," I said bracingly. "Come on."

The Great Hall was filling up fast when we arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As we passed the Snake-Eyes table there was an upsurge of noise. I looked round and saw that, in addition to the usual green and silver scarves and hats, every one of them was wearing a silver badge in the shape of what seemed to be a crown. For some reason many of them waved at Chrissie, laughing uproariously. I tried to see what was written on the badges as we walked by, but I was too concerned with getting Chrissie past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them.

We received a rousing welcome at the Lion-Heart table, where everyone wore red and gold, but far from raising Chrissie's spirits, the cheers seemed to sap the last of her morale; she collapsed onto the nearest bench, looking as though she was facing her final meal.

"I must've been mental to do this," she said in a croaky whisper. _"Mental."_

"Don't be thick," I said firmly, passing her a choice of cereals, "you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."

"I'm rubbish," croaked Chrissie. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"

"Get a grip," I said sternly. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Tanya and Geri said it was brilliant."

Chrissie turned a tortured face to me.

"That was an accident," she said miserably. "I didn't mean to do it - I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking, and when I was trying to get back on I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

"Well," I said, recovering quickly from this unpleasant surprise, "a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

Chris and Sian sat down opposite us, both of them wearing red and gold scarves, gloves and rosettes.

"How're you feeling?" Chris asked Chrissie, who was staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of her empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown herself in them.

"She's just nervous," I said.

"Well, that's a good sign; I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Sian heartily.

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind us. I looked up: Lincoln Lovedream had drifted over from the Raven-Wings table. Many people stared at him and a few openly laughed and pointed; he had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on his head.

"I'm supporting Lion-Heart," said Lincoln, pointing unnecessarily at his head. "Look what it does ..."

He reached up and tapped the hat with his wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.

"It's good, isn't it?" said Lincoln happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Snake-Eyes, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway ... good luck, Christina!"

He drifted away. We had not quite recovered from the shock of Lincoln's hat before Andrew hurried towards us, accompanied by Keith and Aaron, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Matron.

"When you're ready," he said, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be there in a bit," I assured him. "Chrissie's just got to have some breakfast."

It became clear to me after ten minutes, however, that Chrissie was not capable of eating anything more, so I thought it best to get her down to the changing rooms. As we rose from the table, Chris and Sian got up, too, and they both took one of my arms and drew me to one side.

"Don't let Chrissie see what's on those Snake-Eyes badges," Sian whispered urgently.

I looked questioningly at the pair of them, but they both shook their heads warningly; Chrissie had just ambled over to us, looking lost and desperate.

"Break a leg out there, sister," said Chris, "but not literally, of course. You too, Kiara." Chris then kissed my cheek, which made me blush as a surprising rush of heat surged through me. I did not look at Khan.

"Yes, good luck, you two," Sian said, hugging me then Chrissie.

Chrissie seemed to come to herself slightly as we walked back across the Great Hall. She seemed surprised that Sian had hugged her, while I was getting over Chris kissing me again, for back then I was very slow as to what those signals meant. I wasn't as distracted as Chrissie was, though, so I cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped badges as we passed the Snake-Eyes table, and it was then that I made out the words etched on to them:

 _Dawson is our Queen_

I then got a sudden unpleasant feeling that meant nothing good, so I hurried Chrissie across the Entrance Hall, down the stone steps and out into the icy air.

The frosty grass crunched under our feet as we hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all that day, and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant visibility was good without the drawback of having the sun hit us directly in our eyes. I pointed out these encouraging factors to Chrissie as we walked, but I wasn't sure that Chrissie was listening.

Andrew had already changed and was talking to the rest of our team when we entered. Chrissie and I pulled on our robes (Chrissie attempted to do hers up back-to-front for several minutes before Aaron took pity on her and went to help), then we sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd poured out of the castle towards the pitch.

"OK, I've just found out the final line-up for Snake-Eyes," said Andrew, as he consulted a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Dobbs and Boyle, have left, but it looks as though Montague replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two girls called Crate and Gabber, I don't know much about them - "

"We do," said Chrissie and I together.

"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from the other," said Andrew, pocketing his parchment, "but then I was always surprised Dobbs and Boyle managed to find their way on to the pitch without signposts."

"Crate and Gabber are in the same mould," I assured him.

We heard hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators stands. Some people were singing, though I could not make out the words (but I was soon going to find out, and trust me, they're not good). I started to feel nervous, but I knew my butterflies were nothing compared to Chrissie's, who clutched her stomach and stared straight ahead again, her jaw set and her complexion pale grey.

"It's time," said Andrew in a hushed voice, looking at his watch. "C'mon everyone ... good luck."

Myself and the rest of the team rose, shouldered our brooms and marched in a single file line out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted us in which I heard the singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.

The Snake-Eyes team stood waiting for us. They, too, wore those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as my cousin Carol, long, lanky and muscly. Behind her lurked Crate and Gabber, who were twice as large and blinked stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malty stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on her white-blonde head. She caught my eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on her chest.

"Captains, shake hands," ordered the referee Sir Turner, as Andrew and Montague reached each other. I could tell that Montague tried to crush Andrew's fingers, though he did not wince. "Mount you brooms ..."

Sir Turner placed his whistle in his mouth and blew.

The balls were released and fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Chrissie streak off towards the goalhoops. I zoomed higher, dodged a Bludger, and then set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Dani Malty did the exact same thing.

"And it's Johnstone - Johnstone with the Quaffle, what a player that boy is, I've been saying it for years but he still won't go out with me - "

"JONES!" yelled Professor Darbus.

" - just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and he's ducked Warner, he's passed Montague - he's - ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crate ... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from Geri Fang, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, she drops the Quaffle, caught by Keith Ball, Keith Ball of Lion-Heart reverse-passes to Aaron Spinns and Spinns is away - "

Leah Jones' commentary rang through the stadium and I listened as hard as I could through the wind whistling in my ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

" - dodges Warner, avoids a Bludger - close call, Aaron - and are the crowd loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Leah paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Snake-Eyes section of the stands.

 _"Dawson cannot save a thing,_

 _Her saving is so unclean,_

 _That's why Snake-Eyes all sing:_

 _Dawson is our Queen_

 _"Dawson's the worst there's ever been,_

 _Her saving is so obscene,_

 _But she gives Snake-Eyes a winning sheen,_

 _Dawson is our_ Queen."

" - and Aaron passes back to Andrew!" Leah shouted, and as I swerved, my insides boiling at what I had just heard, I knew Leah was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Andrew - looks like he's got the Keeper to beat - HE SHOOTS - HE - aaah ..."

Belch, the Snake-Eyes Keeper, had saved the goal; she threw the Quaffle to Warner who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Aaron and Keith; the singing from below grew louder and louder as she drew nearer Chrissie.

 _"Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Her saving is so obscene,_

 _Dawson is our Queen."_

I could not help myself: abandoning my search for the Snitch, I wheeled around to watch Chrissie, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warner pelted towards her.

" - and it's Warner with the Quaffle, Warner heading for goal, she's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead - "

A great swell of song rose from the Snake-Eyes stands below:

 _"Dawson cannot save a thing,_

 _Her saving is so unclean ..."_

"So it's the first test for new Lion-Heart Keeper Dawson, cousin of Beaters Tanya and Geri Fang, and a promising new talent on the team - come on, Chrissie!"

But the scream of delight came from the Snake-Eyes end: Chrissie dove wildly, her arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Chrissie's central hoop.

"Snake-Eyes score!" came Leah's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Snake-Eyes - bad luck, Chrissie."

The Snake-Eyes sang even louder:

 _"DAWSON'S THE WORST THAT'S EVER BEEN,_

 _HER SAVING IS SO OBSCENE ..."_

" - and Lion-Heart back in possession, and it's Keith Ball tanking up the pitch - " Cried Leah valiantly, though the singing was so deafening by this point that she hardly made herself heard above it.

 _"BUT SHE GIVES SNAKE-EYES A WINNING SHEEN,_

 _DAWSON IS OUR QUEEN ..."_

"Kiara, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Andrew, as he soared past me to keep up with Keith. "GET GOING!"

I then realised that I had been stationary in midair for over a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, I went into a dive and started to circle the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus that thundered through the stadium:

 _"DAWSON IS OUR QUEEN,_

 _DAWSON IS OUR QUEEN ..."_

There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere I looked; Malty was still circling the stadium like I was. We passed one another midway around the pitch, going in opposite directions, and I heard Malty sing loudly:

 _"DAWSON'S THE WORST THAT'S EVER BEEN ..."_

" - and it's Warner again," bellowed Leah, "who passes to Puce, Puce's off past Spinns, come on now, Andrew, you can take her - turns out you can't - nice Bludger from Tanya Fang, I mean, Geri Fang, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warner drops the Quaffle and Keith Ball - er - drops it, too - so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Snake-Eyes Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and she's off up the pitch, come on now, Lion-Heart, block her!"

I zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Snake-Eyes goalhoops, willing myself not to look at what was going on at Chrissie's end. As I sped past the Snake-Eyes Keeper, I heard Belch sing along with the crowd below:

 _"DAWSON CANNOT SAVE A THING ..."_

" - and Puce's dodged Aaron again and she's heading straight for goal, stop it, Chrissie!"

I did not have to look to see what had happened: there was a terrible groan from the Lion-Heart end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Snake-Eyes. Looking down, I saw the pug-faced Parry Parker right at the front of the stands, his back to the pitch as he conducted the Snake-Eyes supporters who roared:

 _"THAT'S WHY SNAKE-EYES ALL SING_

 _DAWSON IS OUR QUEEN."_

But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Lion-Heart to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and we would be in the lead as usual, I assured myself, as I bobbed and weaved through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watchstrap.

But Chrissie let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in my desire to find the Snitch now. I just wanted to get it soon and end the game quickly.

" - and Keith Ball of Lion-Heart dodges Puce, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Keith, and he throws to Johnstone, Andrew Johnstone takes the Quaffle, he's past Warner, he heads for goal, come on now, Andrew - LION-HEART SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Lion-Heart and Puce has the Quaffle ..."

I heard Lincoln's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the cheers and I felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, we could pull back easily. I ducked a Bludger that Crate had sent rocketing in my direction and resumed my frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malty in case she showed signs of having spotted it, but Malty, like me, continued to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly ...

" - Puce throws to Warner, Warner to Montague, Montague to Puce - Johnstone intervenes, Johnstone takes the Quaffle, Johnstone to Ball, this looks good - I mean bad - Ball's hit by a Bludger from Gabber of Snake-Eyes, and it's Puce in possession again ..."

 _"DAWSON'S THE WORST THERE'S EVER BEEN,_

 _HER SAVING IS SO OBSCENE,_

 _BUT SHE GIVES SNAKE-EYES A WINNING SHEEN ..."_

But then I saw it at last: the tiny glittering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Snake-Eyes end of the pitch.

I dived ...

In a matter of seconds, Malty was streaking out of the sky on my left, a green and silver blur lying flat on her broom ...

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malty, who was nearer; I pulled my Firecracker around, and Malty and I were now neck and neck ...

Feet from the ground, I lifted my right hand from my broom and stretched for the Snitch ... to my right, Malty's arm extended too, reaching, groping ...

It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds - my fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball - Malty's fingernails scrabbled the back of my hand hopelessly - I pulled my broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in my hand and the Lion-Heart spectators screamed their approval ...

We were saved, it did not matter that Chrissie had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Lion-Heart had won -

WHAM.

A Bludger hit me squarely in the small of the back and I flew forwards off my broom. It was lucky I was only five or six feet off the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but I was winded all the same as I landed flat on my back on the frozen pitch. I heard Sir Turner's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands that compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Andrew's frantic voice.

"Are you all right?"

"Course I am," I said grimly, taking his hand and allowing him to pull me to my feet. Sir Turner zoomed towards one of the Snake-Eyes players above me, though I could not see who it was from where I stood.

"It was that thug Crate," said Andrew angrily, "she whacked the Bludger at you the moment she saw you'd got the Snitch - but we won, Kiara, we won!"

I heard a snort from behind me and turned around, with the Snitch still held tightly in my hand: Dani Malty had landed close by. She was white-faced with fury, and yet she still managed to sneer.

"Saved Dawson's neck, haven't you?" she said to me. "I've never seen a worse Keeper ... but then she is _the worst there's ever been_ ... did you like my lyrics, Pride-Lander?"

I didn't answer. I turned away to meet the rest of my team who landed one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph; all except Chrissie, who had dismounted from her broom over by the goalposts and made her way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malty called, as Keith and Aaron hugged me. "But we couldn't find any names for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about her father, see - "

"Talk about sour grapes," said Andrew, casting Malty a disgusted look.

" - we couldn't fit in _Mudblood lover_ either - for her mother, you know - "

Tanya and Geri had just realised what Malty was talking about. Halfway through shaking my hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malty.

"Leave it!" said Andrew at once, taking Tanya by the arm. "Leave it, Tanya, let her yell, she's just sore she lost, the jumped-up little - "

" - but you like the Dawsons, don't you, Pride-Lander?" said Malty, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, no matter what their home looks like, but I suppose when you've lived like a Muggle for most of you life, even the Dawsons' _Manor_ smells OK - "

I grabbed hold of Geri. Meanwhile, it took the combined efforts of Andrew, Aaron and Keith to stop Tanya leaping on Malty, who laughed openly. I looked around for Sir Turner, but he was berating Crate for her illegal Bludger attack.

"Or perhaps," said Malty, leering as she backed away, "you can remember what _your_ parents _fancy palace_ smelt like, Pride-Lander, and Dawson's done-up pigsty reminds you of what used to be - "

I was not aware of releasing Geri, all I knew was that a second later the two of us were sprinting at Malty. I had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all I could see was red, and all I wanted to do was cause Malty as much pain as possible; there was no time for me to draw out my wand, so I merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and I sank it as hard as I could into Malty's stomach -

"Kiara! KIARA! GERI! NO!"

I heard girls' voices screaming, Malty yelling, Geri swearing, a whistle blowing and the bellowing of the crowd around me, but I did not care. Not until somebody in the vicinity yelled _"Impedimenta!"_ and I was knocked over backwards by the force of the spell, that I abandoned the attempt to punch every inch of Malty I could reach.

"What do you think you're doing?" shouter Sir Turner as I leapt to my feet. It seemed to have been he who had hit me with the Impediment Jinx; he held his whistle in one hand and his wand in the other; his broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malty was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, her nose bloody; Geri sported a swollen lip; Tanya was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crate cackled in the background. "I've never seen such behaviour like it - back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! _Now!_ "

Geri and I turned on our heels and marched off the pitch, both of us panting, neither of us saying a word. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until we reached the Entrance Hall, where we heard nothing but our own footsteps. I became aware of something struggling in my right hand, the knuckles of which I had bruised against Malty's jaw. Looking down, I saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between my fingers, struggling for release.

We had barely reached the door of Professor Darbus' office when she came marching along the corridor behind us. She wore a Lion-Heart scarf, but tore it form her throat with shaking hands as she strode towards us, looking livid.

"In!" she said furiously, pointing to the door. Geri and I entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced us, quivering with rage as she threw down the Lion-Heart scarf aside on to the floor.

 _"Well?"_ she said. "I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!"

"Malty provoked us," I said stiffly.

"Provoked you?" shouted Professor Darbus, slamming a fist on to her desk so that her tartan tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. "She'd just lost, hadn't she? Of course she wanted to provoke you! But what on earth she can have said that justified what you two - "

"She insulted my aunt and uncle," snarled Geri. "And Kiara's parents."

"But instead of leaving it to Sir Turner to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you?" bellowed Professor Darbus. "Have you any idea what you've - ?"

 _"Hem, hem."_

Geri and I both wheeled round. Democritus Umber stood in the doorway wrapped in a tweed green cloak that greatly enhanced his resemblance to a giant toad, and smiled in the horrible, sickly, ominous way that I had come to associate with imminent misery.

"May I help, Professor Darbus?" asked Professor Umber in his most poisonously sweet voice.

Blood rushed into Professor Darbus' face.

"Help?" she repeated, in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, _help_?"

Professor Umber moved forwards into the office, still smiling his sickly smile.

"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."

I would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor Darbus' nose in that moment.

"You thought wrong," she said, turning her back on Umber. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malty offered you, I do not care if she insulted every family member you possess, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detentions! Do not look at me like that, Pride-Lander, you deserve it! And if either of you ever - "

 _"Hem, hem."_

Professor Darbus closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face towards Professor Umber again.

 _"Yes?"_

"I think they deserve rather more than just detentions," said Umber, smiling still more broadly.

Professor Darbus' eyes fell open.

"But unfortunately," she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, "it is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Democritus."

"Well, _actually_ , Deidre," simpered Professor Umber, "I think you'll find that what I think _does_ count. Now, where is it? Cornelia just sent it ... I mean," he gave a false little laugh as he rummaged through his satchel, "the _Minister_ just sent it ... ah yes ..."

He had pulled out a piece of parchment which he unfurled, clearing his throat fussily before he started to read what it said.

" _Hem, hem_ ... "Educational Decree Number Forty-seven"."

"Not another one!" exclaimed Professor Darbus violently.

"Well, yes," said Professor Umber, still smiling. "As a matter of fact, Deidre, it was you who made me see that we _needed_ a further amendment ... you remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Lion-Heart Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Crighton, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and she quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or he - that is to say, I - would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Deidre, how right I was in attempting to stop the Lion-Heart team re-forming? _Dreadful_ tempers ... anyway, I was reading our amendment ... _hem, hem_ ... "the High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions and removal of all privileges pertaining to the students of Dragon Mort, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelia Sweets, Minister for Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc." "

He rolled up the parchment and put it back into his satchel, still smiling.

"So ... I really think I will have to ban these two from banning Quidditch ever again," he said, looking from myself to Geri and back again.

I felt the Snitch fluttering madly in my hand.

"Ban us?" I said, my voice sounding strangely distant. "From playing ... ever again?"

"Yes, Miss Pride-Lander, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," said Umber, his smile widening still further as he watched me struggle to comprehend what he had just said. "You _and_ Miss Fang here. And I think, to be safe, this young woman's twin ought to be stopped, too - if her teammates had not restrained her, I feel sure she would have attacked young Miss Malty as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor Darbus," he continued, turning back to Professor Darbus, who was now standing as still as though she was carved from ice, staring at him. "The rest of the team can continue playing. I saw no signs of violence from any of _them_. Well ... good afternoon to you."

And with a look of the utmost satisfaction, Umber left the room, leaving a horrified silence in his wake.

0000

"Banned," said Andrew in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. " _Banned._ No Seeker and no Beaters ... what on earth are we going to do?"

It did not feel as though we had won the match at all. Everywhere I looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; my teammates and I were slumped around the fire, all apart from Chrissie, who had not been seen since the end of the match.

"It's just so unfair," said Aaron numbly. "I mean, what about Crate and that Bludger she hit after the whistle had been blown? Has he banned _her_?"

"No," said Chris miserably; he and Sian were sat on either side of me. "She just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And Keziah came up to me after dinner saying that even though she wasn't happy to see her cousin get beat up like that, she understands why and doesn't blame you or Geri, Kiara," said Sian. "She didn't even sing that stupid song."

I would have been surprised by this information had I not been feeling so down about being banned.

"And blaming Tanya when she didn't even do anything!" said Aaron furiously, pummelling his knee with his fist.

"It's not my fault I didn't," said Tanya, with a very ugly look on her face, "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."

I stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch that I had caught earlier on that day zoomed around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though they were hypnotised and Lucifer was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.

"I'm going to bed," said Andrew, getting slowly to his feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream ... maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet ..."

He was soon followed by Aaron and Keith. Tanya and Geri sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed. Only Chris, Sian and I were left beside the fire.

"Have either of you seen Chrissie?" Sian asked in a low voice, looking worried.

Chris and I shook our heads.

"I think she's avoiding us," said Sian. "Where do you think she - ?"

But at that precise moment, there was a loud creaking sound behind us as the Fat Lord swung forwards and Chrissie clambered through the portrait hole. She was very pale and there was snow in her hair. When she saw Chris, Sian and I, she stopped dead in her tracks, but that did not stop Sian jumping from her chair and hugging Chrissie tight.

"Oh, Chrissie," Sian said, relief evident in her voice. She pulled back and looked closely at her. "Where have you been?"

"Walking," Chrissie mumbled. She was still in her Quidditch things.

"You're freezing," said Sian. "You need to warm up. Come on ..." and Sian all but pushed Chrissie into a chair by the fire.

As soon as she had sat down, Chrissie didn't look at me, but looked at her hands instead. The stolen Snitch zoomed over our heads.

"I'm sorry," Chrissie muttered, still looking at her hands.

"What for?" I said.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch," said Chrissie. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"If you resign," I said testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Chrissie looked puzzled, I said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Tanya and Geri."

"What?" Chrissie yelped.

Chris told her the full story; I could not bear to tell it again. When he had finished, Chrissie looked more anguished than ever.

"This is all my fault - "

"You didn't make me punch Malty," I said angrily.

" - if I wasn't so terrible at Quidditch - "

" - it's got nothing to do with that."

" - it was that song that wound me up - "

" - it would've wound anyone up."

Sian got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.

"Look, drop it, will you!" I burst out. "It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!"

Chrissie said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of her robes. After a while she said in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Join the club," I said bitterly.

"Yeah, we've got jackets," Chris finished glumly, his head in his hands.

"Well," said Sian, her voice trembling slightly. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you three up."

"Oh yeah?" I said sceptically.

"Yeah," said Sian, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked window, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Mina's back."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

 **Mina's Tale**

 **KIARA**

I sprinted up to the girls' dormitories to fetch the Invisibility Cloak (once I had released it from the baton) and the Scallywag Map from my trunk; I was so quick that Chris, Chrissie and I were ready to leave, but we had to wait for Sian, because she had dashed upstairs not long after I had, and when she came down she wore a scarf and one of her own knobbly elf hats. She already had gloves, the warm leather blue ones that she never took off.

"Well, it's cold out there!" she said defensively at Chris and Chrissie's impatient looks.

We crept through the portrait hole and covered ourselves hastily in the Cloak - Chris and Sian had grown so much that they both had to crouch to prevent their feet from showing - then, moving slowly and cautiously, we proceeded down the many staircases, , pausing at intervals to check the map for signs of Match or Mrs Robbs. We were lucky; we saw nobody but Nearly Headless Nicola, who was gliding along absent-mindedly, humming something that sounded horribly like "Dawson is our Queen" (though looking back, I'm not surprised she was humming that song, considering Madam Nicola and Chrissie's relationship). We crept across the Entrance Hall and out into the silent, snowy grounds. With a great leap of my heart, I saw little golden squares of light ahead and smoke coiling up out of Mina's chimney. I set off at a quick march, the other three jostling and bumping along behind me. We crunched excitedly through the thickening snow until at last we reached the wooden front door. When I raised my fist and knocked three times, a dog started barking frantically inside.

"Mina, it's us!" I called through the keyhole.

"Shoulda known!" said a gruff voice.

The four of us beamed at each other under the Cloak; we could tell by Mina's voice that she was pleased. "Bin home three seconds ... out the way, Gnasher ... _out the way_ , yeh dozy dog ..."

The bolt was drawn back, the door creaked open and Mina's head appeared in the gap.

Sian screamed.

"Merlin's beard, keep it down!" said Mina hastily, staring wildly over our heads. "Under that Cloak, are yeh? Well, get in, get in!"

"I'm sorry!" Sian gasped, as the four of us squeezed passed Mina into the house and pulled the Cloak off ourselves so she could see us. "I just - oh, _Mina_!"

"It's nothin', it's nothing'!" said Mina hastily, shutting the door behind us and hurrying to close the curtains, but Sian continued to gaze up at her in horror, and it was easy to see why she would.

Mina's hair was matted with congealed blood and her left eye had been reduced to a puffy slit amid a mass of purple and black bruising. There were many cuts on her face and hands, some of which still bled, and she moved around gingerly, which I suspected had to do with broken ribs. It was obvious that she had only just got home; a thick black travelling cloak lay over the back of a chair and a haversack large enough to carry several small children leaned against the wall inside the door. Mina herself, twice the size of a normal woman, limped over to the fire and placed a copper kettle over it.

"What happened to you?" I demanded, as Gnasher danced all around us, trying to lick our faces.

"Told yeh, _nuthin'_ ," said Mina firmly. "Want a cuppa?"

"Come off it," said Chris, "you're in a right state!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, I'm fine," said Mina, as she straightened up and turned to beam at us all, but wincing. "Blimey, it's good ter see yeh four again - had good summers, did yeh?"

"Mina, you've been attacked!" said Chrissie.

"Fer the las' time, it's nuthin'!" said Mina firmly.

"Would you say it was nothing if one of us turned up with a pound of mince instead of a face?" Chris demanded.

"You ought to go and see Matron, Mina," said Sian anxiously. "Some of those cuts look nasty."

"I'm dealin' with it, all righ'?" said Mina repressively.

She walked across to the enormous wooden table that stood in the middle of the cabin and twitched aside a tea towel that had been lying on it. Underneath lay a raw, bloody, green-tinged steak that was slightly larger than the average car tyre.

"You're not going to eat that, are you, Mina?" said Chrissie, leaning in for a closer look. "It looks poisonous."

"It's s'posed ter look like that, it's dragon's meat," Mina said. "An' I didn' get it ter eat."

She picked up the steak and slapped it over the left side of her face. Greenish blood trickled down her cheek as she gave a soft moan of satisfaction.

"Tha's better. It helps with the stingin', yeh know."

"So, are you going to tell us what's happened to you?" I asked.

"Can't, Kiara. Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."

"Did the giants beat you up, Mina?" said Sian quietly.

Mina's fingers slipped on the steak and it slid squelchily on to her chest.

"Giants?" said Mina, catching the steak before it reached her belt and she slapped it back over her face. "Who said anythin' about' giants? Who yeh bin talkin' to? Who's told yeh what I've - who's said I've bin - eh?"

"We guessed," said Sian apologetically.

"Oh, yeh did, did yeh?" said Mina, surveying her sternly with the eye that was not hidden by her steak.

"It was kind of ... obvious," said Chris. I nodded.

"Sorry," said Chrissie, trying her best to look innocent.

Mina glared at us, then snorted, before she threw the steak back on to the table and strode over to the kettle, which was whistling.

"Never known kids like you four fer knowin' more'n yeh oughta," she muttered, as she splashed boiling water into four of her bucket-sized mugs. "An' I'm not complimentin' yeh, neither. Nosy, some'd call it. Interferin'."

But the corners of her mouth twitched.

"So have you been looking for giants?" I said, grinning, as she sat down at the table.

Mina set tea in front of each of us, sat down, picked up her steak again and slapped it back over her face.

"Yeah, all righ'," she grunted. "I have."

"And you found them?" said Sian in a hushed voice.

"Well, they're not that difficult ter find, ter be honest," said Mina. "Pretty big, see."

"Where are they?" said Chrissie.

"Mountains," said Mina unhelpfully.

"So why don't Muggles - ?"

"They do," said Mina darkly. "On'y their deaths are always put down ter mountaineerin' accidents, aren' they?"

She adjusted the steak a little so that it covered the worst of the bruising.

"Come on, Mina, tell us what you've been up to!" said Chris. "Tell us about being attacked by giants and Kiara can tell you about being attacked by Stingers - "

Mina choked in her mug and dropped her steak at the same time; a large quantity of spit, tea and dragon's blood was sprayed over the table as Mina coughed and spluttered and the steak slid, with a soft _splat_ , on to the floor.

"Whadda yeh mean, attacked by Stingers?" growled Mina.

"Didn't you know?" Sian asked her, wide-eyed.

"I don' know anythin' about what's bin happenin' since I left. I was on a secret mission, wasn' I, I didn' wan' owl followin' me all over the place - ruddy Stingers. Yeh're not serious?"

"Yeah, I am, they turned up in - - and attacked my cousin and I, and then the Ministry of Magic expelled me - "

"WHAT?"

" - and I had to go to a hearing and everything, but tell us about the giants first."

"You were _expelled_?"

"Tell us about your summer and I'll tell you about mine."

Mina glared at me through her one open eye. I looked right back, an expression of innocent determination etched across my face.

"Oh, all righ'," Mina said in a resigned voice.

She bent down and tugged the dragon steak out of Gnasher's mouth.

"Oh, Mina, don't, it's not hygen- " Sian began, but Mina had already slapped the meat back over her swollen eye.

She took another fortifying gulp of tea, then said, "Well, we set off righ' after term ended - "

"Monsieur Legrand went with you, then?" Sian interjected.

"Yeah, tha's righ'," said Mina, and a softened expression appeared on the few inches of her face that was not obscured by the green steak. "Yeah, it was jus' the pair of us. An' I'll tell yeh this, he's not afraid of roughin' it, Olier. Yeh know, he's a fine, well-dressed man, an' knowin' where we was goin' I wondered 'ow he'd feel abou' clamberin' over boulders an' sleepin' in caves an' tha', bu' he never complained once."

"You knew where you were going?" I repeated. "You knew where the giants were?"

"Well, Crighton knew, an' she told us," said Mina.

"Are they hidden?" asked Chrissie. "Is it a secret, where they are?"

"Not really," said Mina, shaking her head. "It's jus' that mos' wizards aren' bothered where they are, 's'long as it's a good long way away. But where they are's very difficult ter get ter, fer humans anyway, so we needed Crighton's instructions. Took us abou' a month ter get there - "

"A _month_?" said Chris, as though he had never heard of a journey lasting such a ridiculously long time. "But - why couldn't you have just grabbed a Portkey or something?"

There was an odd expression in Mina's unobscured eye as she surveyed Chris; it was almost pitying.

"We're bein' watched, Chris," she said gruffly.

"What d'you mean?"

"Yeh don' understand," said Mina. "The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Crighton an' anyone they reckon's in league with 'er, an - "

"We know that," I said quickly, keen to hear the rest of Mina's story, "we know about the Ministry watching Crighton - "

"So you couldn't use magic to get there?" asked Chrissie, who looked thunderstruck. "You had to act like Muggles _all the way_?"

"Well, not exactly all the way," said Mina cagily. "We jus' had ter be careful, 'cause Olier an' me, we stick out a bit - "

Chrissie made a stifled noise somewhere between a snort and a sniff and hastily took a gulp of tea.

" - so we're hard not ter follow. We was pretendin' we was goin' on holiday together, so we got inter France an' we made like we was headin' fer Olier's school, 'cause we knew we was bein' tailed by someone from the Ministry. We had to go slow, 'cause I'm not really s'posed ter use magic an' we knew the Ministry'd be lookin' fer a reason ter run us in. But we managed ter give the berk tailin' us the slip round abou' Dee-John - "

"Ooooh, Dijon?" said Sian excitedly. "I went there on holiday with Ma once, did you see - ?"

She fell silent at the looks on Chris and Chrissie's faces.

"We chanced a bit o' magic after that an' it wasn' a bad journey. Ran inter a couple o' mad trolls on the Polish border an' I had a sligh' disagreement with a vampire in a pub in Minsk, bu' apart from tha' couldn't'a bin smoother.

"An' then we reached the place, an' we started trekkin' up through the mountains, lookin' fer signs of 'em ...

"We had ter lay off the magic once we got near 'em. Partly 'cause they don' like wizards an' we didn' want ter put their backs up too soon, an' partly 'cause Crighton had warned us She-You-Know was bound ter be after the giants an' all. Said it was odds on she'd sent a messenger off ter them already. Told us ter be very careful of drawin' attention to ourselves as we got nearer in case there were Love Destroyers around."

Mina paused for a long draught of tea.

"Go on!" I said urgently.

"Found 'em," said Mina baldly. "Wen' over a ridge one nigh' an' there they was, spread ou' underneath us. Little fires burnin' below an' huge shadows ... it was like watchin' bits of the mountain movin'."

"How big are they?" said Chrissie in a hushed voice.

"'Bout twenty feet," said Mina casually. "Some o' the bigger ones mighta bin twenty-five."

"And how many were there?" I asked.

"I reckon abou' sixty or seventy," said Mina.

"Is that all?" said Sian.

"Yep," said Mina sadly, "seventy left, an' there was loads once, musta bin a hundred diff'rent tribes from all over the world. Bu' they've bin dyin' out fer ages. Wizards killed a few, o' course, bu' mostly they killed each other, an' now they're dyin' out faster than ever. They're not made ter live bunched up together like tha'. Crighton says it's our fault, it was the wizards who forced 'em to go an' made 'em live a good long way from us 'an they had no choice bu' ter stick together fer their own protection."

"So," I said, "you saw them and then what?"

"Well, we waited 'til morning, didn' want ter go sneakin' up on 'em in the dark, fer our own safety," said Mina. "'Bout three in the mornin' they fell asleep jus' where they was sittin'. We didn' dare sleep. Fer one thing, we wanted ter make sure none of 'em woke up an' came up where we were, an' fer another, the snorin' was unbelievable. Caused an avalanche near mornin'.

"Anyway, once it was light, we went down ter see 'em."

"Just like that?" said Chrissie, who looked awestruck. "You just walked right into a giant camp?"

"Well, Crighton told us how ter do it," said Mina. "Give the Gurg gifts, show some respect, yeh know."

"Give the _what_ gifts?" I asked.

"Oh, the Gurg - means the chief."

"How could you tell which one was the Gurg?" asked Chris.

Mina grunted in amusement.

"No problem," he said. "He was the biggest, the ugliest an' the laziest. Sittin' there waitin' ter be brought food by the others. Dead goats an' such like. Name o' Kagan. I'd put him at twenty-two, twenty-three feet an' the weight o' a couple o' bull elephants. Skin like rhino hide an' all."

"And you just walked up to him?" said Sian breathlessly.

"Well ... _down_ ter him, where he was lyin' in the valley. They was in this dip between four pretty high mountains, see, beside a mountain lake, and Kagan was lyin' by the lake roarin' at the others feed him an' his wife. Olier and I went down the mountainside - "

"But they didn't try and kill you when they saw you?" asked Chrissie incredulously.

"It was def'nitely in some o' their minds," said Mina, shrugging, "but we did what Crighton told us ter do, which was ter hold our gift up high an' keep our eyes on the Gurg an' ignore the others. So tha's what we did. An' the rest of 'em went quiet an' watched us pass an' we got right up ter Kagan's feet an' we bowed an' put our present down in front o' him."

"What do you give a giant?" said Chris eagerly. "Food?"

"Nah, he can get food all righ' fer himself," said Mina. "We took him magic. Giants like magic, jus' don' like us usin' it against 'em. Anyway, that firs' day we gave him a branch o' Gubraithian fire."

Sian said, "Wow!" softly, but Chris, Chrissie and I frowned in puzzlement.

"A branch of - ?"

"Everlasting fire," said Sian, irritably, "you ought to know that by now. Professor Winds has mentioned it at least twice in class!"

"Well, anyway," said Mina quickly, before either Chris or Chrissie could answer back, "Crighton'd bewitched this branch ter burn fer evermore, which isn' somethin' any witch or wizard could do, an' so I lies it down in the snow by Kagan's feet an' says, "A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Susan Crighton who sends her respectful greetings." "

"And what did Kagan say?" I asked eagerly.

"Nothin'," said Mina. "Didn' speak English."

"You're kidding!"

"Didn' matter," said Mina imperturbably, "Crighton had warned us tha' migh' happen. Kagan knew enough ter yell fer a couple o' giants who knew our lingo an' they translated fer us."

"And did he like the present?" asked Chrissie.

"Oh yeah, it went down a storm once they understood what it was," said Mina, as she turned her dragon steak over to press the cooler side to her swollen eye. "Very pleased. So then I said, "Susan Crighton asks the Gurg to speak with her messenger when she returns tomorrow with another gift." "

"Why couldn't you speak to them that day?" asked Sian.

"Crighton wanted us ter take it very slow," said Mina. "Let 'em see we kept our promises. _We'll come back tomorrow with another gift_ , an' then we do come back with another present - gives a good impression, see? An' gives them a time ter test out the firs' present an' find out it's a good one, an' get 'em eager fer more. In any case, giants like Kagan - overload 'em with information an' they'll kill yeh jus' to simplify things. So we bowed outta the way an' went off an' found ourselves a nice little cave ter spend that night in an' the followin' mornin' we went back an' this time we found Kagan sittin' up waitin' fer us, lookin' all eager."

"And you talked to him?"

"Oh yeah. Firs' we presented him with a nice battle helmet - faun-made an' indestructible, yeh know - an' then we sat down an' we talked."

"What did he say?"

"Not much," said Mina. "Listened mostly. Bu' there were good signs. He'd heard o' Crighton, heard she'd argued against the killin' o' several giants across the globe. Kagan seemed ter be quite int'rested in what Crighton had ter say. An' a few o' the others, 'specially the ones who had some English, they gathered round an' listened too. We were hopeful when we left that day. Promised ter come back next mornin' with another present.

"But that night it all wen' wrong."

"What d'you mean?" said Chris quickly.

"Well, like I say, they're not meant ter live together, giants," said Mina sadly. "Not in big groups like that. They can' help themselves, they half kill each other every few weeks. The men fight each other an' the women fight each other; the remnants of the old tribes fight each other, an' that's even without squabbles over food an' the best fires an' sleepin' spots. Yeh'd think, seein' as how their whole race is abou' finished, they'd lay off each other, but ..."

Mina sighed deeply.

"That night a fight broke out, we saw it from the mouth of our cave, lookin' down on the valley. Went on fer hours, yeh wouldn' believe the noise. An' when the sun came up the snow was scarlet an' his head was lyin' at the bottom o' the lake."

"Whose head?" gasped Sian.

"Kagan's," said Mina heavily. "There was a new Gurg, Ganbeater." She sighed deeply. "Well, we hadn' bargained on a new Gurg two days after we'd made friendly contact with the firs' one, an' we had a funny feeling that Ganbeater wouldn' be so keen ter listen to us, bu' we had ter try."

"You went to speak to him?" asked Chrissie incredulously. "After you'd watched him rip another giant's head off?"

"Course we did," said Mina, "we hadn' gone all that way ter give up after two days! We wen' down with the next present we'd meant ter give ter Kagan.

"I knew it was no good before I'd opened me mouth. He was sittin' there wearin' Kagan's helmet, leerin' at us as we got nearer. He's massive, one o' the biggest ones there. Black hair an' matchin' teeth an' a necklace o' bones. Human-lookin' bones, some of 'em. Well, I gave it a go - held out a great roll o' dragon skin - an' said, "A gift fer the Gurg of the giants - " Nex' thing I knew, I was hangin' upside-down in the air by me feet. Two of his mates had grabbed me."

Sian clapped her hands to her mouth.

"How did you get out of _that_?" I asked.

"Wouldn'ta done if Olier hadn' bin there," said Mina. "He pulled out his wand an' did some o' the fastes' spellwork I've ever seen. Ruddy marvellous. Hit the two holdin' me right in the eyes with Conjunctivitus Curses an' they dropped me straightaway - bu' we were in trouble then, 'cause we'd used magic against 'em, an' that's what giants hate abou' wizards. We had ter leg it an' we knew there was no way we was going ter be able ter march inter the camp again."

"Blimey, Mina," said Chris quietly.

"So, how come it's taken you so long to get home if you were only there for three days?" asked Sian.

"We didn' leave after three days!" said Mina, who looked outraged. "Crighton was relyin' on us!"

"But you've just said there was no way you could go back!"

"Not by daylight we couldn', no. We just had ter rethink a bit. Spent a couple o' days lyin' low up in the cave an' watchin'. An' what we saw wasn' good."

"Did he rip off more heads?" said Sian, who looked thoroughly disgusted at the thought.

"No," said Mina, "I wish he had."

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean we soon found out he didn't object ter all wizards - just us."

"Oh no," Sian sighed quietly.

"Love Destroyers?" I said quickly.

"Yep," said Mina darkly. "Couple of 'em were visitin' him ev'ry day, bringin' gifts ter the Gurg, an' he wasn' dangling them upside-down."

"How d'you know they were Love Destroyers?" said Chrissie.

"Because I recognised one of 'em," Mina growled. "Magro, remember her? Cow they sent ter kill Noelani? Maniac, she is. Likes killin' as much as Ganbeater; no wonder they were gettin' on so well."

"So Magro persuaded the giants to join She-You-Know?" said Sian desperately.

"Hold yer Hippogriffs, I haven' finished me story yet!" said Mina indignantly, who, considering she had not wanted to tell us anything in the first place, seemed to be enjoying herself. "Me an' Olier talked it over an' we agreed, jus' 'cause the Gurg looked like favourin' She-You-Know didn' mean all of 'em would. We had ter try an' persuade some o' the others, the ones who hadn' wanted Ganbeater as Gurg."

"How could you tell which ones they were?" asked Chrissie.

"Well, they were the ones bein' beaten to a pulp, weren' they?" said Mina patiently. "The ones with any sense were keepin' outta Ganbeater's way, hidin' out in caves roun' the gully jus' like we were. So we decided we'd go pokin' round the caves by night an' see if we couldn' persuade a few o' them."

"You went poking around dark caves looking for giants?" said Chris, with awed respect in his voice.

"Well, it wasn' the giants who worried us most," said Mina. "We were more concerned abou' the Love Destroyers. Crighton had told us before we wen' not ter tangle with 'em if we could avoid it, an' the trouble was they knew we was around - 'spect Ganbeater told 'em abou' us. At night, when the giants were sleepin' an' we wanted ter be creepin' inter the caves, Magro an' the other one were sneakin' 'round the mountains lookin' fer us. I was hard put ter stop Olier jumpin' out at 'em," said Mina, the corners of her mouth crinkling, "he was rarin' ter attack 'em ... he's somethin' when he's roused, Olier ... fiery, yeh know ... 'spect it's the French in him ..."

Mina then gazed misty-eyed into the fire. I allowed her thirty seconds of reminiscence before I cleared my throat loudly.

"So, what happened? Did you ever get near any of the other giants?"

"What? Oh ... oh, yeah, we did. Yeah, on the third night after Kagan was killed we crept outta the cave we'd bin hidin' in an' headed back down inter the gully, keepin' our eyes skinned fer the Love Destroyers. Got inside a few o' the caves, no go - then, in abou' the sixth one, we found three giants hidin'."

"Cave must've been cramped," said Chrissie.

"Wasn' room ter swing a Kneazle," said Mina.

"Didn't they attack you when they saw you?" asked Sian.

"Probably woulda done if they'd bin in any condition," said Mina, "but they was badly hurt, all three o' them; Ganbeater's lot had beaten 'em unconscious; they'd woken up an' crawled inter the nearest shelter they could find. Anyway, one o' them had a bit of English an' she translated fer the others, an' what we had ter say didn' seem ter go down too badly. So we kep' goin' back, visitin' the wounded ... I reckon we had abou' six or seven o' them convinced at one poin'."

"Six or seven?" said Chrissie eagerly. "Well that's not bad - are they going to come over here and start fighting She-You-Know with us?"

But Sian said, "What do you mean "at one point", Mina?"

"Yeah, something must've happened to make you say that," said Chris.

Mina looked at us sadly.

"Ganbeater's lot raided the caves. The ones tha' survived didn' wan' no more ter do with us after that."

"So ... so there aren't any giants coming?" said Chrissie, looking disappointed.

"Nope," said Mina, heaving a great sigh as she turned over her steak and applied the cooler side to her face, "but we did wha' we meant ter do, we gave 'em Crighton's message an' some of 'em heard it, an' I 'spect some o' them'll remember it. Jus' maybe, them that don' want ter stay around Ganbeater'll move outta the mountains, an' there's gotta be a chance they'll remember Crighton's friendly to 'em ... could be they'll come."

Snow filled up the window. I then became aware that the knees of my robes were soaked through: Gnasher was drooling with her head in my lap.

"Mina?" said Sian quietly after a while.

"Mmm?"

"Did you ... was there any sign of ... did you hear anything about your ... your ... father while you were there?"

Mina's unobscured eye rested upon her and Sian looked rather scared.

"I'm sorry ... I ... forget it - "

"Dead," Mina grunted. "Died years ago. They told me."

"Oh ... I'm ... I'm really sorry," said Sian in a very small voice. Mina shrugged her massive shoulders.

"No need," she said shortly. "Can't remember him much. Wasn' a great father."

We were silent once again. Sian glanced nervously at Chris, Chrissie and I, silently begging us to say something.

"But you still haven't explained how you got in this state, Mina," Chris said, gesturing towards Mina's bloodstained face.

"Or why you're back late," I said. "My parents said Monsieur Legrand got back ages ago - "

"Who attacked you?" Chrissie demanded.

"I haven' bin attacked!" said Mina emphatically. "I - "

But the rest of her words were drowned in a sudden outbreak of rapping on the door. Sian gasped; her mug slipped through her fingers and smashed on the floor; Gnasher yelped. The five of us stared at the window beside the doorway. The shadow of somebody small and squat rippled across the curtain.

 _"It's him!"_ Chris whispered.

"Get under here!" I said quickly; I seized the Invisibility Cloak and whirled it over myself, Chris, Sian and Chrissie tore around the table and dived under the Cloak as well. Huddled together, the four of us backed into a corner. Mina looked thoroughly confused.

"Mina, hide our mugs!"

Mina seized mine, Chris, Sian and Chrissie's mugs and shoved them under the cushion in Gnasher's basket. Gnasher was leaping at the door; Mina pushed her out of the way with her foot and pulled it open.

Professor Umber was standing in the doorway wearing his green tweed cloak and a matching hat with earflaps. Lips pursed, he leaned back so as to see Mina's face; he barely reached her navel.

"So," he said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to someone deaf. "You're Mina, are you?"

Without waiting for an answer he strolled into the room, his bulging eyes rolling in every direction.

"Get away," he snapped, waving his satchel at Gnasher, who bounded up to him and attempted to lick his face.

"Er - I don' want ter be rude," said Mina, staring at him, "but who the ruddy hell are you?"

"My name is Democritus Umber."

His eyes swept the cabin. Twice they stared directly into the corner where I stood, sandwiched between Chris and Chrissie.

"Democritus Umber?" Mina said, sounding thoroughly confused. "I thought you were one o' them Ministry - don' you work with Sweets?"

"I was Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, yes," said Umber, pacing around the cabin, taking in every tiny detail within, from the haversack against the wall to the abandoned travelling cloak. "I am now the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher - "

"Tha's brave of yeh," said Mina, "there's not many'd tha' take tha' job any more."

" - and Dragon Mort High Inquisitor," said Umber, who gave no sign that he had just been interrupted.

"Wha's that?" said Mina, frowning.

"Precisely what I was going to ask," said Umber, pointing at the broken shards of china that had been Sian's mug.

"Oh," said Mina, with a most unhelpful glance towards the corner where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were stood hiding, "oh, tha' was ... was Gnasher. She broke a mug. So I had ter use this one instead."

Mina pointed to the mug from which she had been drinking, one hand still clamped over the dragon steak pressed to her eye. Umber then stood facing her, taking in every detail of her appearance instead of the cabin's.

"I heard voices," he said quietly.

"I was talkin' ter Gnasher," said Mina stoutly.

"And was she talking back to you?"

"Well ... in a manner o' speakin'," said Mina uncomfortably. "I sometimes say Gnasher's near enough human - "

"There are four sets of footprints in the snow leading down from the castle doors to your cabin," said Umber sleekly.

Sian gasped; Chris clasped a hand over her mouth. Luckily, Gnasher was sniffing loudly around the hem of Professor Umber's robes and he did not appear to have heard.

"Well, I on'y jus' got back," said Mina, waving an enormous hand at the haversack. "Maybe someone came ter call earlier an' I missed 'em."

"There are no footsteps leading away from your cabin door."

"Well, I ... I don' know why that'd be ..." said Mina, wriggling her fingers nervously and glancing again towards the corner where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I stood, as though she was asking us for help. "Erm ..."

Umber wheeled round and strode the length of the cabin, looking around carefully. He bent and peered under the bed. He opened Mina's cupboards. He passed within inches of where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I were stood pressed against the wall; I actually pulled in my stomach as he walked by. After looking carefully inside the enormous cauldron Mina used for cooking, he wheeled round again and said, "What has happened to you? How did you sustain those injuries?"

Mina hastily removed the dragon steak from her face, which I thought was a mistake, because the black and purple bruising around her eye was clearly visible, not to mention the large amount of fresh and congealed blood on her face. "Oh, I ... had a bit of an accident," she said lamely.

"What sort of accident?"

"I - I tripped."

"You tripped," he repeated coldly.

"Yeah, tha's right. Over ... over a friend's broomstick. I don' fly, meself. Well, look at the size o' me, I don' reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o' mine breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you've ever seen 'em, big beasts, winged, yeh know, I've had a bit of a rids on one o' them an' it was - "

"Where have you been?" asked Umber, coolly cutting through Mina's babbling.

"Where've I - ?"

"Been, yes," he said. "Term started two months ago. Another teacher has had to cover your classes. None of you colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabouts. You left no address. Where have you been?"

There was a pause in which Mina stared at him with her newly uncovered eye. I could almost hear her brain working furiously.

"I-I've been away for me health," she said.

"For your health," said Professor Umber. His eyes travelled over Mina's discoloured and swollen face; dragon blood dripped gently and quietly on to her blouse. "I see."

"Yeah," said Mina, "bit o' - o' fresh air, yeh know - "

"Yes, as gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by," said Umber sweetly. The small patch of Mina's face that wasn't black or purple, flushed.

"Well - change o' scene, yeh know - "

"Mountain scenery?" said Umber swiftly.

 _He knows_ , I thought desperately.

"Mountains?" Mina repeated, clearly thinking fast. "Nope, South o' France fer me. Bit o' sun an' ... an' sea."

"Really?" said Umber. "You don't seem to have much of a tan."

"Yeah ... well ... sensitive skin," said Mina, attempting an ingratiating smile. It was then that I noticed that two of her teeth had been knocked out. Umber looked at her coldly; her smile faltered. Then he hoisted his satchel back onto his shoulder and said, "I shall, of course, be informing the Minister of your late return."

"Righ'," said Mina, nodding.

"You ought to know, to, that as High Inquisitor it is my unfortunate but necessary duty to inspect my fellow teachers. So I daresay we shall meet again soon enough."

He turned sharply and marched back to the door.

"You're inspectin' us?" Mina repeated blankly, looking after him.

"Oh, yes," said Umber softly, looking back at her with his hand on the door handle. "The Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers, Mina. Goodnight."

He left, closing the door behind him with a snap. I made to pull off the Invisibility Cloak but Sian seized my wrist.

"Not yet," she breathed. "He might not be gone yet."

Mina seemed to be thinking the same way; she stumped across the room and pulled back the curtain an inch or so.

"He's goin' back ter the castle," she said in a low voice. "Blimey ... inspectin' people, is he?"

"Yeah," I said, as I pulled off the Cloak. "Crystals is on probation already ..."

"Um ... what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Mina?" asked Sian.

"Oh, don' you worry abou' that, I've got a great load o' lessons planned," said Mina enthusiastically, as she scooped up her dragon steak from the table and slapped it over her eye again. "I've bin keepin' a couple o' creatures saved fer yer OWL year; you wait, they're somethin' really special."

"Erm ... special in what way?" said Sian tentatively.

"I'm not sayin'," said Mina happily. "I don' want ter spoil the surprise."

"Look, Mina," said Sian urgently, dropping all pretence, "Professor Umber won't be at all happy if you bring anything to class that's too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" said Mina, looking genially bemused. "Don' be silly, I won' give yeh anythin' dangerous! I mean, all righ', they can look after themselves - "

"Mina, you've got to pass Umber's inspection, and to do that it would _really_ be better if he saw you teaching us how to look after Porlocks, how to tell the difference between Knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!" said Sian earnestly.

"But tha's not very interestin', Sian," said Mina. "The stuff I've got's much more impressive. I've bin bringin' 'em on fer years, I reckon I'm the second an' on'y other person in Britain who's got a domestic herd."

"Mina ... please ..." said Sian, a note of real desperation in her voice. "Umber is looking for any excuse to get rid of teachers he thinks are too close to Ma. Please, Mina, teach us something dull that's bound to come up in our OWL."

But Mina merely yawned widely and cast a one-eyed look of longing towards the vast bed in the corner.

"Lis'en, it's bin a long day an' it's late," she said, patting Sian gently on the shoulder, so that her knees gave way and she hit the floor with a dull thud. "Oh - sorry - " She pulled her back up by the neck of her robes. "Look, don' you go worryin' abou' me, I promise yeh I've got really good stuff planned fer yer lessons now I'm back ... now you lot had better get back up to the castle, an' don' forget ter wipe yer footprints out behind yeh!"

"I dunno if you got through to her," said Chris a short while later when, having checked that the coast was clear, we walked back up to the castle through the thickening snow, leaving no trace behind us due to the Obliteration Charm Sian was performing as we went.

"Then I'll go back again tomorrow," said Sian determinedly. "I'll plan her lessons for her if I have to. I don't care if he throws out Ctystals but he's not getting rid of Mina - not if I have any sort of say in it, anyway!"

 **AN: OK, so this is my last chapter before Christmas. Naturally, I will not be writing on Christmas Day for every obvious reason, and I will not be writing on New Year's Day, either. So, have a good Christmas, and you shall be receiving a new chapter next Wednesday or Thursday.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

 **The Eye of the Snake**

 **KIARA**

Sian ploughed her way back to Mina's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning, and Chris, seeing as he had no homework to do, went with her. Chrissie and I wanted to go with them, but our mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so we remained grudgingly in the common room, trying to ignore the gleeful shouts that drifted up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves by skating on the frozen river, tobogganing and, worst of all (for me and Chrissie, that is), bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Lion-Heart Tower and rap hard on the windows.

"Oi!" bellowed Chrissie, after finally losing her patience and sticking her head out of the window. "I am a Prefect, and if one more snowball hits this window - OUCH!"

She withdrew her head sharply, her face covered in snow.

"It's Tanya and Geri," she said bitterly, slamming the window behind her. "Cows ..."

Chris and Sian both returned from Mina's before lunch, shivering slightly, their robes damp to the knees.

"So?" said Chrissie, looking up when they entered. "Got all her lessons planned for her, S.D.?"

Chris cast Sian a sympathetic smile, which she returned gratefully, before she turned to Chrissie and I and said dully. "Well, I tried." She and Chris then sat down next to us, Chris next to me and Sian next to Chrissie. Sian then pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. "She wasn't even there when we arrived. We were knocking for at least half an hour. And then she came stumping out of the Forest - "

I groaned. The Black Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures that were most likely to get Mina the sack. "What's she keeping in there? Did she say anything to either of you?" I asked.

"No," said Chris miserably. "She says she wants them to be a surprise. Sian tried to explain about Umber, but she just doesn't get it. She kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras - oh, we don't think she's _got_ a Chimaera," he added at the appalled looks on mine and Chrissie's faces, "but that's not for lack of trying, from what she said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times Sian told her she'd be better off following Smutty-Stave's plan, but I don't think she listened to half a word Sian said. Mina's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. She still won't say how she got all those injuries."

Mina's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast on Monday was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Tanya, Geri and Leah, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Lion-Heart and Badger-Stripe tables to wring Mina's enormous hand; others, like Perry and Larry, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. I knew that many of them preferred Professor Smutty-Stave's lessons, and the worst of it was that a very small, unbiased part of me knew that they had good reason: Smutty-Stave's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off.

And so, it was with a certain amount of apprehension that Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I headed down to Mina's on Wednesday, heavily muffled against the cold. I was worried, not only about what Mina might have decided to teach us, but also about the rest of the class, particularly Malty and her cronies, would behave if Umber was watching us.

However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as we struggled through the snow towards Mina, who stood waiting for us on the edge of the Forest. She did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were tinged with green and yellow and some of her cuts still seemed to be bleeding. I couldn't understand what was happening to her; I couldn't help but wonder if Mina had been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing. As though to complete the ominous feeling, Mina carried what looked like half a dead cow over her shoulder.

"We're workin' in here today!" Mina called happily to us as we approached, jerking her head back at the dark trees behind her. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."

"What prefers the dark?" I heard Malty say sharply to Crate and Gabber, a trace of panic in her voice. Keziah looked at her cousin but didn't say anything. "What did she say prefers the dark - did you hear?"

I remembered the only other occasion Malty (and her cousin) had entered the Forest before this point; she had not been very brave then, either. I smiled to myself; after the Quidditch fiasco, anything that caused Malty discomfort was fine with me.

"Ready?" said Mina cheerfully, looking round at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably one of two people in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."

"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malty, the panic in her voice even more pronounced. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

The Snake-Eyes murmured agreement and a few of my fellow Lion-Hearts looked as though Malty had a fair point, too.

"Course they're trained," said Mina, scowling, as she hoisted the dead cow a little higher over her shoulder.

"So what happened to your face, then?" Malty demanded.

"Mind yer own business!" said Mina, angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"

She turned and strode straight into the Forest. None of us seemed much disposed to follow. I glanced at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, who sighed but nodded, and the four of us set off after Mina, leading the rest of the class.

We walked for about ten minutes until we reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as night and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Mina deposited her half a cow on the ground, stepped back and turned to face her class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards her, peering around nervously as though they were expecting to be set upon at any moment.

"Gather roun', gather roun'," Mina encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

She turned, shook her head back and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. No one laughed: most of us looked too shocked to make a sound.

Mina gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which we, the class, continued to peer nervously over our shoulders for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Mina shook her head back and expanded her enormous chest, I nudged Chrissie and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.

A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed us for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear dead flesh from the cow with its pointed fangs.

A great wave of relief broke over me. Here at last was proof that I had not imagined these creatures, that they were real: Mina knew about them too. I looked eagerly at Chrissie, but Chrissie still stared into the trees and after a few seconds she whispered, "Why doesn't Mina call them again?"

Most of the rest of my classmates wore expression as confused and nervously expectant as Chrissie's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse that was mere feet from us. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Snake-Eyes girl who stood just behind Gabber who was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on her face; and Nikita, whose eyes followed the swishing progress of the long black tail.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Mina proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery wings closer to its body and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. "Now ... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Immensely pleased to feel that I was at last going to understand the mystery of these horses, I raised my hand. Mina nodded at me.

"Yeah ... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Kiara," she said seriously. "An' you too, Nikita, eh? An' - "

"Excuse me," said Malty in a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"

For an answer, Mina pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. We all stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Perry shuddered. I understood why: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.

"What's doing it?" Perry demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"

"Thestrals," said Mina proudly, and Sian gave a soft _"Oh!"_ of comprehension at Chrissie's shoulder. "Dragon Mort has a whole her of 'em in here. Now, who knows - ?"

"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Perry, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Crystals told me once - "

"No, no, no," said Mina, chuckling, "tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Crighton's takin' a long journey an' she don' want ter Apparate - an' here's another couple, look - "

Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Perry, who shivered and pressed himself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Mina patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Sian raised her hand.

"Go on, then," said Mina, beaming at her.

"The only people who can see Thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha's exactly right," said Mina solemnly, "ten points ter Lion-Heart. Now, Thestrals - "

 _"Hem, hem."_

Professor Umber had arrived. He stood a few feet away from me, wearing his green hat and cloak again, his clipboard at the ready. Mina, who had never heard Umber's fake cough before, gazed in some concern at the nearest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

 _"Hem, hem."_

"Oh, hello!" Mina said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umber, in the same loud, slow voice he had used with her earlier, as though he was addressing someone who was both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh, yeah," said Mina brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as yeh can see - or, I dunno - can you? We're doin' Thestrals today - "

"I'm sorry!" said Professor Umber loudly, cupping his hand around his ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Mina looked a little confused.

"Er - _Thestrals_!" she said loudly. "Big - er - winged horses, yeh know!"

She flapped her gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umber raised his eyebrows at her and muttered as he made a note on his clipboard: _"Has ... to ... resort ... to ... crude ... sign ... language."_

"Well ... anyway ..." said Mina, turning back to us and looking slightly flustered, "erm ... what was I sayin'?"

 _"Appears ... to ... have ... poor ... short ... term ... memory,"_ muttered Umber, loudly enough for us all to hear him. Dani Malty looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Sian, on the other hand, had her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Oh, yeah," said Mina, throwing an uneasy glance at Umber's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. "This one," she patted the first horse to have appeared, "name o' Charna, she's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest - "

"Are you aware," said Umber loudly, interrupting her, "that the Ministry of Magic have classified Thestrals "dangerous"?"

My heart sank like a stone, but Mina merely chuckled.

"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them - "

 _"Shows ... signs ... of ... pleasure ... at ... the ... idea ... of ... violence,"_ said Umber, scribbling on his clipboard again.

"No - come on!" said Mina, who looked a little anxious. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it - but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing - people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

Umber did not answer; he finished writing his last note, then looked up at Mina and said, again loudly and slowly, "Please continue to teach as usual. I am going to walk," he mimed walking (Malty and Parry Parker were having silent fits of laughter) "among the students" (he pointed at individual members of the class) "and ask them questions." He pointed at his mouth to indicate talking.

Mina stared at him, clearly at a complete loss to understand why he acted as though she did not understand normal English. I looked at Sian, who had her fists clenched and shook with suppressed rage. I could practically feel the heat emanating off her like a wave of lava; I wouldn't have been surprised to see the snow around us start to melt.

"You monster, you evil monster!" she whispered, as Umber walked towards Parry Parker. "I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious - "

"Erm ... anyway," said Mina, who was clearly struggling to regain the flow of her lesson, "so - Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them ..."

"Do you find," said Professor Umber, in a ringing voice to Parry Parker, "that you are able to understand Professor Wickes when she talks?"

Just like Sian, Parry was shaking, but this was because he was trying not to laugh out loud: indeed, his answer was almost incoherent because he was trying to conceal his laughter.

"No ... because ... well ... it sounds ... like grunting a lot of the time ..."

Umber scribbled on his clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Mina's face flushed, but she tried to act as though she had not heard Parry's answer.

"Er ... yeah ... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go - "

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malty loudly, and Parry Parker collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umber smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Nikita.

"You can see the Thestrals, Bore, can you?" he said.

Nikita nodded.

"Who did you see die?" he asked, his tone indifferent.

"My ... my grandma," said Nikita.

"And what do you think of them?" he said, waving his stubby hand at the horses, who had, by this point, stripped a great deal of the carcass down to the bone.

"Erm," said Nikita nervously, with a glance at Mina. "Well, they're ... er ... OK ..."

 _"Students ... are ... too ... intimidated ... to ... admit ... they ... are ... frightened,"_ muttered Umber, making another note on his clipboard.

"No!" said Nikita, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"

"It's quite all right," said Umber, patting Nikita on the shoulder with what he evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer in my eyes. "Well, Mina," he turned to look up at her again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive" (he mimed taking something from the air in front of him) "the results of your inspection" (he pointed at his clipboard) "in ten days' time." He held up ten stubby little fingers then, his smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath his green hat, he bustled from our midst, leaving Malty and Parry Parker in fits of laughter, Sian shaking with fury and Nikita looking confused and upset.

"That foul, lying, twisted old gargoyle!" stormed Sian half an hour later, as we made our way back up to the castle through the channels we had made earlier in the snow. "You see what he's up to, don't you? It's his thing about half-breeds all over again - he's trying to make out Mina's some kind of dim-witted troll, just because she had a giant for a father - and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all - I mean, all right, if it had been Shudder-Ended Crabs again, but Thestrals are fine - in fact, for Mina, they're really good!"

"Umber said they're dangerous," said Chris.

"Well, it's like Mina said, they can look after themselves," said Sian impatiently, "and I suppose a teacher like Smutty-Stave wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? They way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could!"

"Do you?" I asked her quickly.

She looked suddenly horror-struck.

"Oh, Kiara - I'm sorry - no, of course I don't - that was a really stupid thing to say."

"It's OK," I said quickly, "don't worry."

"I'm surprised so many people _could_ see them," said Chrissie. "Three in a class - "

"Yeah, Dawson, we were just wondering," said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of us in the muffling snow, Malty, Crate and Gabber were walking right behind us. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it, you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"

She, Crate and Gabber roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of "Dawson is our Queen". Chrissie's cheeks turned scarlet.

"Ignore them, just ignore them," intoned Sian, as she pulled out her wand and performed the charm to produce hot air again, so that she melted an easier path through the untouched snow between us and the greenhouses.

0000

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for us fifth-years. Chris, Sian and Chrissie's Prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ("You try putting up tinsel when Weeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it," said Chrissie), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ("And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year," said Chrissie) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Douglas Match, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ("He's got dung for brains, that one," said Chrissie furiously). They were so busy that Sian had even stopped knitting elf hats and fretted that she was down to her last three.

"All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!"

I had not had the heart to tell Sian that Dokey was the only elf who took everything she made (sorry, Sian), so I quickly bent my head lower over my History of Magic essay to hide my guilt-ridden face. I did not want to think about Christmas that year, anyway. Yes, I would be going back to my grandmothers, but between my Quidditch ban and worrying about whether or not Mina was going to be put on probation, I was looking forward to getting away from the place, but I really wanted my parents to be with us. Don't get me wrong, not all of Dragon Mort wasn't bad at the time. In fact, the only thing I looked forward to in those days were the CA meetings, which had to stop for the holidays, seeing as nearly everybody in the CA was spending time with their families. Chris, Sian, Chrissie, the rest of the Dawsons and Tanya and Geri were all going to Dawson Manor for Christmas. When I spoke to Chris, Sian and Chrissie about their Christmas plans, Sian said to me, "Oh, Kiara, I forgot to tell you! Ma wrote to Sarabi a few weeks ago, and Sarabi agreed to you, she and Sarafina spending Christmas at ours this year!"

At Sian's words, my spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at Dawson Manor with my grandmothers was truly wonderful, though it was slightly marred by my guilty feeling that I wouldn't be spending the holiday with my parents. I wondered if it could ask Grandmother Sarabi to invite my parents for the festivities. Even though I doubted whether Crighton would have permitted my parents to leave Pumbaa's house anyway, I could not help but think that my grandmothers would not want my parents to leave Pumbaa's house; my mother and Grandmother Sarabi were so often at loggerheads. My parents had not contacted me at all since their last appearance in the fire, and although I knew that with Umber on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact them, I did not like to think of my parents alone with Kleaner, in Pumbaa's mother's house, as Pumbaa dashed in and out every now and then, as my mother (perhaps) shared a lonely cracker with Kleaner.

I arrived early in the Room of Needs for the last CA meeting before the holidays, and I was very glad I did, because when the torches burst into flame I saw that Dokey had taken it upon herself to decorate the place for Christmas. I could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each one showing a picture of my face and bore the legend: "HAVE A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS!"

I had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Lincoln Lovedream entered, looking his usual dreamy self.

"Hello," he said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. "These are nice, did you put them up?"

"No," I said, "it was Dokey the house-elf."

"Mistletoe," said Lincoln dreamily, pointing up at a large clump of white berries that were placed almost over my head. I jumped out from under it. "Good thinking," said Lincoln very seriously. "It's often infested with Nargles."

I was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles were by the arrival of Andrew, Keith and Aaron. The three of them were breathless and looked very cold.

"Well," said Andrew dully, as he pulled off his cloak and chucked it into a corner, "we've finally replaced you."

"Replaced me?" I said blankly.

"You and Tanya and Geri," he said impatiently. "We've got another Seeker!"

"Who?" I said quickly.

"Chris Rickers," said Keith.

I gaped at him.

"Yeah, I know," said Andrew, pulling out his wand and flexing his arm, "but he's pretty good, actually. Nothing on you, of course," he said, throwing me a very dirty look, "but as we can't have you ..."

I bit back the retort I longed to utter: did he honestly think for a second that I did not regret my expulsion from the team a hundred times more than he did?

"And what about the Beaters?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"Angie Kurt," said Aaron without enthusiasm, "and Jaqueline Slacks. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up ..."

The arrival of Chris, Sian, Chrissie and Nikita brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent me from seeing Andrews' burning, reproachful looks.

"OK," I said, calling them all to order. "I thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting something new before a three-week break - "

"We're not doing anything new?" said Zhi Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."

"We're all really sorry Kiara didn't tell you, then," said Tanya loudly.

Several people sniggered. I saw Khan laughing and I felt a familiar blush capture my cheeks. I looked away before he saw me looking at him.

"We can practice in pairs," I said. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx for ten minutes, then we can get the cushions and try Stunning again."

We all divided up obediently; I partnered Nikita as usual. The room was full of intermittent cries of _"Impedimenta!"_ People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.

Nikita had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when I had unfrozen three times in a row, I had Nikita join Chris and Chrissie again so that I could walk around the room and watch the others. When I passed Khan he grinned at me; I resisted the temptation to walk past him several more times.

After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, we laid out cushions all over the floor and started practicing Stunning again. Space was really too confined for me to allow all of us to work this spell at once; I had half the group observe the others for a while, then swap over. I felt my heart swell with pride for every person in that room as I watched them all. True, Nikita did Stun Perry Party rather than Dena, at whom she had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress.

At the end of an hour, I called a halt.

"You're getting really good," I said, beaming around at them. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some of the big stuff - maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual threes and fours; most people wished me a "Happy Christmas" as they went. Feeling cheerful, I collected up the cushions with Chris, Sian and Chrissie and stocked them neatly away. Chris, Sian and Chrissie left before I did, even though Sian and Chrissie had to practically shove Chris out the door; I hung back a little, because Khan was still there and I hoped to receive a "Merry Christmas" from him.

"No, you go on," I heard him say to his friend Maurice, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks yet again as my heart beat faster.

I pretended to straighten the cushion pile. I was quite sure that we were alone and I was waiting for him to speak. After a few minutes had passed in utter silence, I realised I would have to be the one to start the conversation. I turned to face him.

Khan was stood in the middle of the room, deep in thought. I could tell they weren't happy thoughts; his eyes were sad and they looked quite shiny, and his breathing was deep and heavy.

I knew I wouldn't like where this was going, but what choice did I have? So I took a deep breath and said, "Khan?"

He jumped and faced me. He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

"What's up?"

"I'm - sorry," he said thickly. "I suppose ... it's just ... learning all this stuff ... it just makes me ... wonder whether ... if _she'd_ known it all ... she'd still be alive."

My heart sank good and proper then, and my worst suspicions were confirmed. He wanted to talk about Georgia. And of course I was going to talk to him about her. After all, I did tell him a few months ago that if he ever wanted to talk about Georgia, I would be there.

"She did know this stuff," I said heavily. "She was really good at it, or she could never have got to the middle of that maze. But if Zira really wants to kill you, you don't stand a chance."

He hiccoughed slightly at the sound of Zira's name, but stared at me without flinching.

" _You_ survived when you were just a baby," he said quietly.

"Yeah, well," I said, trying to be modest as I moved slightly closer to him, "I dunno why, nor does anyone else, so it's nothing to be proud of."

"I'm sorry for being like this," Khan said, after another deep breath. His eyes still shone with unshed tears. "I didn't mean to ... I know you'd have been perfectly happy with just a simple "Merry Christmas" ... but I'm just ... wondering about her ... God, I miss her so much ..."

That did it. Khan started crying. He was right, I would have been happy with a "Merry Christmas", but after that I was anything but happy. He was handsome even through his tears, and no matter how much I wanted to leave him, I knew I couldn't. I don't know what made me do it, but before I was aware of what I was doing, I walked right up to Khan and threw my arms around him. Fortunately, he didn't pull back; he put his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, holding me just as tightly back.

Once he had calmed down, he pulled back. The air between us was rather awkward.

"Thanks, Kiara," he said, trying to smile again. "I needed that."

"No problem," I said, flashing him a weak smile, as my cheeks began to burn again.

"I know it must be horrible for you," he said, mopping his eyes on his sleeve. "Me mentioning Georgia when you saw her die - at Christmas of all times, too ... I suppose you just want to forget about it?"

I did not say anything; it was quite true, but I felt heartless saying it.

"You're a really good teacher, you know," said Khan with a watery smile. "I've never been able to Stun anything before."

"Thanks," I said awkwardly.

We stared at each other for a long moment. All I wanted to do was run back to him, but my feet didn't feel like moving.

"Mistletoe," said Khan quietly, pointing at the ceiling over my head.

"Yeah," I said. My mouth was very dry. "It's probably full of Nargles, though."

"What are Nargles?"

"No idea," I said. He moved closer to me. My brain seemed to have been stunned. "You'll have to ask Loony - Lincoln, I mean."

Khan made a funny noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. He was even closer to me now. I saw his eyes explore every inch of my face.

"I really like you, Kiara."

I could not think. I could not speak. My heart beat faster as a tingling sensation spread through my body, paralysing my arms, legs and brain.

He was much too close. I saw every tear cling to his eyelashes, as he raised a hand to cup my cheek. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and I was pretty sure that my face resembled a tomato ...

0000

I returned to the common room half an hour later to find Chris, Sian and Chrissie in the best seats by the fire; nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Sian was writing a very long letter; she had already filled half a roll of parchment, which dangled from the edge of the table. Chrissie lay on the hearthrug, trying to finish her Transfiguration homework, and Chris was gazing into the fire, but looked up at me when he sensed me coming.

"What kept you?" he asked, as I sank down into the armchair next to Sian's.

I did not answer. I was in a state of shock and I was trying hard not to giggle. I really wished that Chris wasn't there so that I could've told Sian and Chrissie what happened between Khan and I.

"Are you all right, Kiara?" Sian asked, peering at me over the top of her quill.

I was in too much shock to answer as I let a giggle escape me. Chris, Sian and Chrissie all looked at me properly after I let that giggle escape. "What's up?" said Chrissie, hoisting herself up on her elbow to get a better view of me. "What's happened?"

I didn't quite know how to tell them as more giggles escaped me. As I tried to compose myself, Sian took matters out of my hands.

"Is it Khan?" she asked in a business-like way. "Did he corner you after the meeting?"

Not able to speak, I nodded through my giggles. Chrissie sniggered, but broke off when Sian caught her eye. Chris then decided to take part in the conversation.

"So - er - what did he want?" he asked in a mock casual voice. When I looked at him, my giggles stopped. His eyes were hard, cold and angry and his expression was grim.

"He - " I began, rather hoarsely; I cleared my throat and tried again. "He - er - "

"Did you kiss?" asked Sian briskly.

Chris sat forward in his chair, as Chrissie sat up so fast she sent her ink bottle flying all over the floor. Disregarding this completely, she and Chris both stared avidly at me.

"Well?" Chris demanded in a hard voice.

"Did you?" Chrissie said eagerly.

I looked from Chris' hard expression, to Sian's slight frown, and as my eyes landed upon Chrissie's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity, I nodded and giggled at the same time.

"HA!"

Chrissie made a triumphant gesture with her fist and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second-years over beside the window jump. My giggles joined Chrissie's laughter. Sian shot her sister a disgusted look as she rolled around on the hearthrug, as Chris muttered, "Excuse me." He jumped out of his chair and headed for the stairs to the dormitories. A few seconds later we heard a dull thud, followed by a curse and a groan that made Chrissie and I stop laughing. The two of us and Sian wheeled around just in time to see Chris come back, clenching and unclenching his fist. "Sorry," he mumbled as he sat back down, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. Sian and Chrissie shared a knowing look before Sian returned to her letter.

"Well?" said Chrissie finally, looking up at me. "How was it?"

I considered for a moment.

"Wet," I said truthfully.

Chrissie made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

"Because he was crying," I continued heavily.

"Oh," said Chrissie, her smile fading slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," I said, for I had not considered this possibility, and I therefore became immediately worried. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," said Chris, speaking to his feet.

"How would you know, Rickers?" said Sian sharply, continuing to write her letter.

"Because Khan spends half his time crying these days," said Chris, in a tone that clearly said he did not want to have this discussion. "He does it mainly in the loos where no one can see him."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer him up," said Chrissie, grinning.

"You know, sister," said Sian, in a dignified voice, "not only are you the most insensitive wart that I have the misfortune to live with, but it's at times like these when I wonder how on earth I can be related to you? Besides, Khan's grieving, so what if he cries? It only makes him human, after all."

"But what sort of person cries when someone's kissing them?" said Chrissie indignantly.

"Yeah, who does that?" I said desperately.

Chris looked up at Chrissie and I with an almost pitying expression on his face.

"Don't any of you understand how Khan's feeling at the moment?" he asked.

"No," said Chrissie and I together.

Sian chose that moment to look up and she said to Chris, "Rickers, do you know the phrase "Men are from Mars, and women are from Venus"?"

"Of course I do, but what - ? Oh." Chris caught the pointed look on Sian's face and said, "Well, obviously he's feeling very sad because of Georgia dying. Then I expect he's feeling confused because he liked Georgia and now he likes Kiara, and he can't work out who he likes best. Then he'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Georgia's memory to be kissing Kiara at all, and he'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about him if he starts going out with Kiara. And he probably can't work out what his feelings towards Kiara are, anyway, because she was the one who was with Georgia when Georgia died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and he's afraid he's going to be thrown off the Raven-Wings Quidditch team because he's been flying so badly."

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Chrissie said, "One person couldn't feel all that at once, they'd explode."

Sian stopped writing, shook her head, sighed, looked at her sister and said, "Chrissie, just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon does not mean that we all have."

"He was the one who started it," I said. "I wouldn't've - he just sort of came at me - the next thing I know he was crying over me - it was kind of weird to have a guy crying on a girl's shoulder."

Sian and Chrissie nodded in agreement. Then Sian looked at me and said, "You were nice to him, weren't you?"

"Well, when he first started crying I ran to him and threw my arms around him to comfort him, and he hugged me back, but that only lasted for a few minutes before we let go of each other," I said. I looked at Sian and asked her, "I did the right thing, didn't I?"

Sian smiled and said, "Of course you did. And believe me when I say, you could have done a lot worse. Instead of hugging him, you could have run from the room, screaming, like a coward. Like Chrissie," she added. Chrissie looked outraged at this comment.

"Hey!"

"Oh, please, Chrissie, you know you would have as well as the rest of us do." Chrissie looked like she was about to make a retort, then hesitated, thought about it for a few moments then shrugged and let it go. Sian smiled at her before she turned back to me.

"So, are you going to see him again?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" I said. "We've got CA meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean," said Sian impatiently.

I said nothing. Sian's words opened up a whole new vista of frightening possibilities. I tried to imagine going somewhere with Khan - Dragsmede, perhaps - and being alone with him for hours at a time. Of course, he would be hoping to ask me out after what had happened ... the thought made my stomach flutter as many butterflies took flight, and I couldn't help another giggle escape me.

"Oh, well," said Sian distinctly, buried in her letter once more, "I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities to be with him alone."

"What if Khan doesn't want to ask her?" said Chris, who had been watching me with a grim expression on his face.

"Why, Chris, are you wishing that it was you in Khan's shoes?" said Chrissie slyly. She and Sian shared another look.

"What? Pfft, no I don't," said Chris in a would-be casual voice. He avoided our eyes, mine in particular.

"Well, I think that Khan will ask her, and Kiara will say yes when he does," said Sian positively. "Besides, Kiara's liked him for ages, haven't you, Kiara?"

I did not answer. Yes, I had liked Khan for ages, but whenever I had imagined a scene that involved the two of us it had always featured a Khan who was enjoying himself, as opposed to a Khan who wanted me to be his shoulder to cry on.

"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?" Chrissie asked Sian, who tried to read the bit of parchment that was trailing on the floor. Sian hitched it up out of sight.

"Kopa, if you must know."

"Outsider's brother?"

"How many other Kopas do we know?"

Both Chris and Chrissie said nothing. We sat in silence for the next twenty minutes, Chris rubbing his injured hand, Sian writing steadily to the end of the parchment, rolling it up carefully and sealing it, Chrissie finishing her Transfiguration essay with many crossings out, and I was staring into the fire, wishing more than anything for my mother's head to appear in it so that I could talk to her about boys. But the fire merely crackled lower and lower, until the red-hot embers crumbled into ash and, looking around, I saw that we were, yet again, the last ones in the common room.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm off to bed," said Sian, yawning. Chris, Chrissie and I were also feeling sleepy, so we climbed the stairs to the dormitories and parted with Chris for the night.

"Night," he grumbled, and without looking at any of us, he marched to the boys' dormitory door and slammed it shut behind him.

Once we were in our dormitory, Sian, Chrissie and I pulled off our robes and put on our pyjamas in silence; Beth, Kestrel and Merida were already asleep. I got into bed but did not pull the hangings closed around my four-poster; instead, I stared at the patch of starry sky visible through the window next to Merida's bed. If I had known, that time the night before, that in twenty-four hours time that I would've kissed Khan Chan ...

Sian, Chrissie and I bid each other good night and all was silent between us. My thoughts then turned back to Khan. Maybe next time ... if there was a next time ... he'd be a bit happier. He ought to have asked me out; he had kissed me, after all, so why would that stop him ... or was he consumed by guilt by kissing me because of how he felt for Georgia? I did not know what to think. Chris' explanation had made it all seem more complicated rather than easier to understand.

 _That's what they should teach us here_ , I thought, as I turned on to my side, _how boys' brains work_ ... _it'd be more useful than Divination, anyway_ ...

Merida snuffled in her sleep. An owl hooted somewhere in the night.

I remember the dream I had perfectly, but that's mainly because of the odd part, but first I dreamed I was back in the CA room. Khan was accusing me of luring him there under false pretences; he said I had promised him a hundred and fifty Fruit-Frog Cards if he showed up. I protested ... Khan shouted, _"Georgia gave me loads of Fruit-Frog Cards, look!"_ And he pulled out fistfuls of Cards from inside his robes and threw them into the air. Then he turned into Chris, who said, _"You did promise him, you know, Kiara ... I wouldn't have minded you not bringing Cards if it had been me ... but seeing as you forgot, I think you'd better give him something else instead ... how about your Firecracker?"_ And I protested that I could not give him my Firecracker, because Umber had it, and anyway, the whole thing was ridiculous, for the only reason I'd gone to the CA room was to put up some Christmas baubles that were shaped like Dokey's head ...

And then the dream changed completely, and became very strange for me indeed ...

My body felt smooth, powerful and flexible. I glided between shiny metal bars, across dark, cold stone ... I was flat against the floor, sliding along on my belly ... it was dark, yet I could see objects around me shimmering in strange, vibrant colours ... I was turning my head ... at first glance the corridor was empty ... but no ... a man sat on the floor ahead, his chin drooping on to his chest, his outline gleaming in the dark ...

I put out my tongue ... I tasted the man's scent on the air ... he was alive but drowsy ... he was sat in front of a door at the end of the corridor ...

I longed to bite the man ... but I must muster the impulse ... I had more important work to do ...

But the man stirred ... a silver cloak fell from his legs as he jumped to his feet; and I saw his vibrant, blurred outline towering above me, saw a wand withdrawn from a belt ... I had no choice ... I reared high from the floor and struck once, twice, three times, plunging my fangs deeply into the man's flesh, feeling his ribs splinter beneath my jaws, feeling the warm gush of blood ...

The man yelled in pain ... then he fell silent ... he slumped backwards against the wall ... blood splattered on to the floor ...

My forehead hurt terribly ... it was aching fit to burst ...

"Kiara! KIARA!"

I opened my eyes. Every inch of my body was covered in an icy sweat; my bed covers were twisted all around me like a straight-jacket; I felt as though a white-hot poker was being applied to my forehead.

 _"Kiara!"_

Sian was stood over me looking anxious and worried. I could make out other figures watching me from their beds. I clutched my head in my hands; the pain blinded me ... I rolled right over and vomited over the edge of the mattress.

"She's really ill!" said a scared voice. "Should we call someone?"

"No."

"But Sian - "

"I know, Merida, but we must get to the bottom of this before we do anything," said Sian in an authoritative tone. I then felt my bed bend a little and I looked up to see Sian staring at me attentively, waiting calmly for me to speak. I had to tell her. She had every right to know ... I took great gulps of air and I pushed myself up in bed, willing myself not to throw-up again as the pain half-blinded me.

"Your dad," I panted, my chest heaving. "Your dad's ... been attacked ..."

Sian's expression quickly flashed from calm to shocked.

"What?"

"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere ..."

There must have been some sort of movement from nearby, for Sian barked, "Stay where you are, Merida!" After a few seconds, Sian turned back to me and said, "Kiara, this was just a - "

"No!" I said furiously; it was crucial for Sian to understand. "It wasn't a dream ... not an ordinary dream ... I was there, I saw it ... I _did_ it ..."

Sian looked at me intently, searching every inch of my face (what for, I don't know). I wished she wouldn't have, for her father was injured and could have been dying. I begged her with my eyes to believe me, and after a while she seemed to have reached a decision. She got off up my bed and marched over to Chrissie's. Chrissie was, surprisingly, still asleep.

"Chrissie? Chrissie?" Sian asked, tapping her gently, but Chrissie still didn't move. Sian then lost patience with her, and said impatiently, "Oh, for heaven's sake ... Chrissie, wake up!"

There was then the sound of someone bouncing on a mattress, a yell and someone falling to the floor with a thud: it appeared that Sian had just kicked Chrissie out of bed.

"Where's the fire?" moaned Chrissie, apparently half asleep.

"There will be a fire if you don't get up!" said Sian quickly.

"Why? What's - ?"

"No time, Chrissie. Now, get your dressing gown, I've got a job for you." I heard Chrissie scrabbling to get up and Sian tapping her foot impatiently. When Chrissie was in front of her, Sian said, "Now, listen carefully to what I've got to say, because I'm only going to tell you this once and I do not want to be interrupted, you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you," said Chrissie quickly.

"Good," Sian said, in that commanding, authoritative tone of hers. She went on, "Now, here's what I want you to do. Go to Professor Darbus. If you see any other teacher on your way, tell them that one of Professor Darbus' students is ill. Once you get to Professor Darbus, tell her that the Eldest Dawson Girl wishes for you to come quickly, because there's something that demands your immediate attention. And if you have to, tell her that Kiara's been sick and is in pain. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good. Go." There was then hurried footsteps and the sound of a door opening. Sian quickly turned her attention to Merida. "I've got a job for you too, Merida. Go to the boys. Wake them up. Tell them that someone in our family is in danger. Don't tell them anything more than that for now. And if they ask you how you know this, simply tell them "S.D. told me, you know what she's like". Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, sister," said Merida at once. "Question."

"Shoot."

"Can I use your air horn?"

I looked at Sian. She was trying hard not to laugh, but she quickly composed herself and said, "Not at this time of night, no, but if you have to, you can pour water over their heads. Off you go."

Merida dashed out of the room with a small smile on her face. When she left I vomited again. There were more hurried footsteps, then the sound of a tap turning on, followed by water being poured into things. Next thing I know, Sian was back at my bedside, with a glass filled with water in one hand, and a bucket full of water with a flannel in it in the other. She bent down beside me, placed the bucket on the floor and held out the glass to me.

"Here. Drink this." I took the glass from her with shaking hands and drank most of it. I placed it down on my bedside table and Sian then took the flannel and started to cool my face with it. She then paused in her actions and asked herself, "Why am I doing this?" After a couple of seconds she merely shrugged her shoulders and carried on.

As Sian continued to dab my face, she kept muttering things like, "It'll be OK, it'll be OK," and, "Don't worry, help is at hand, we'll be fine." Whether it was to herself, her sisters or to me this was directed at, I don't know, but I do believe she was trying to comfort herself, and I have to say, she did comfort me quite a bit. After all, if it wasn't for Sian keeping a cool head in such dire circumstances, I'm not sure what would have happened, but I think there would have been a bit of freaking out. Besides, the cold water on my head did help to recede the pain in my scar ... then, about five minutes later, hurried footsteps came up the stairs and I heard Chrissie's voice again.

"Over here, Professor."

Professor Darbus came hurrying into the dormitory in her tartan dressing gown, her glasses perched lopsidedly on the bridge of her bony nose. As soon as Sian saw her, she dropped the flannel back into the bucket and stepped away from my bed.

"What is it, Pride-Lander? Where does it hurt?"

I had never been so pleased to see her before this point; it was a member of the Order of the Centaur I needed, not someone fussing over me and prescribing me useless potions.

"It's Sian's father," I said. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen."

"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" said Professor Darbus, her thick eyebrows contracting.

"I don't know ... I was asleep and then I was there ..."

"You mean you dreamed this?"

"No!" I said angrily; would no one understand? "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid ... and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr Dawson was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is ..."

Professor Darbus was gazing at me through her lopsided spectacles as though she was horrified at what she was seeing.

"I'm not lying and I'm not mad!" I told her, my voice rising to a shout. "I tell you, I saw it happen!"

"I believe you, Pride-Lander," said Professor Darbus curtly. "You and the Dawson girls will put on your dressing gowns - we're going to see the Headmistress."

 **AN: So I hope you all have had a happy Christmas - well, not so happy, but still. Anyway, this is my last chapter of 2016, and I shall be updating next week, not Sunday because it's New Year's Day, of course. So, until then, all I have to say is RIP to all the amazing people who left this world too soon, and I shall see you all in the new year.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

 **ST Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries**

 **KIARA**

I was so relieved she was taking me seriously that I did not hesitate, but jumped out of bed at once and pulled on my dressing gown, as did Beth and Kestrel. As this happened, Sian said to Chrissie, "Merida's with the boys. Tell them all to go down to the common room now."

"Of course, sister," Chrissie said, and she dashed for the door again. Professor Darbus watched this, clearly impressed with Sian's actions.

"Well, I must say, Miss Dawson, you certainly handle your emotions well," said Professor Darbus, her tone conveying surprise and pride.

"Well, someone has to keep a cool head in these situations," said Sian, "otherwise, people will panic, and when people panic that don't have their heads screwed on straight, and nothing productive ever gets done."

Darbus nodded, and said, "It's good to know that your family not only has a great sister to look up to, but also a great captain. Come on." We all headed to the door. As we went down to the common room, I heard Sian mutter, "Captain? No, that can't be right ..." but when I looked at her, I saw that she had a pleased little smile on her face.

When we reached the common room, we found Chris, Chrissie, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave huddled around the portrait hole. When they saw Sian, they ran to her and started asking her questions - "What's going on?" "Who's hurt?" "Is someone dying?" - but Sian merely quieted them by saying, "We'll explain everything when we get to Ma's office." They stood aside and the Dawsons and I followed Professor Darbus out of the portrait hole and along the Fat Lord's moonlit corridor. I remember feeling as though the panic inside of me was going to spill over at any moment; I desperately wanted to run, to yell for Crighton; Mr Dawson was bleeding as we were walking along so sedately, and what if those fangs (I tried hard not to think "my fangs") has been poisonous? We passed Mrs Robbs, who turned her lamplike eyes upon us and hissed faintly, but Professor Darbus said, "Shoo!" Mrs Robbs sunk into the shadows, and in a few minutes we had reached the elevator that led to Crighton's office. Professor Darbus reached into a pocket of her dressing gown and pulled out twelve tokens for the slot. When we stepped inside the elevator expanded to let us all in, and once Professor Darbus told the voice inside the elevator to take us to Crighton's office, all of us except for Sian grabbed on to one of the hooks and we held on tight as we were flown around the school.

Once we were out of the elevator in front of Crighton's office, we heard voices coming from within, even though it was well past midnight, and there was a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Crighton was entertaining at least a dozen people.

Professor Darbus rapped three times with the griffin knocker and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor Darbus led myself and the Dawsons inside.

The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did; the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red and gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.

"Oh, it's you, Professor Darbus, and ... _my children_?"

Crighton sat in a high-backed chair behind her desk; she leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers that were laid out before her. She was wearing a magnificently embroidered emerald and silver dressing gown, that went well with her silver phoenix pendant that had emeralds on the chain and were used for the phoenix's eyes, which she wore under the dressing gown and over a snowy white night-gown. She seemed wide awake, considering her attire, and her penetrating light green eyes quickly switched from Sian's serious expression to Professor Darbus' equally serious one.

"Professor Crighton, Pride-Lander has had a ... well, a nightmare," said Professor Darbus. "She says ..."

"It wasn't a nightmare," I said quickly.

Professor Darbus looked round at me, frowning slightly.

"Very well then, Pride-Lander, you tell the Headmistress about it."

"I ... well, I _was_ asleep ..." I said, and even in my terror and my desperation to make Crighton understand, I felt slightly irritated that the Headmistress did not look at me, but at Sian. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream ... it was real ... I saw it happen ..." I took a deep breath, "your husband, ma'am - Mr Dawson - has been attacked by a giant snake."

The words seemed to reverberate in the air after I had said them, sounding slightly ridiculous, even comical. There was a pause in which Crighton's face registered shock and the colour drained from her face as she continued to look at Sian, the serious expression still on her face, even as the colour drained from it. I heard Chris, Chrissie and the rest of the Dawsons behind me were muttering quietly in shock.

"How did you see this?" Crighton asked quietly, still choosing to look at Sian and not at me, and she spoke with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Well ... I don't know," I said rather angrily - after all, did it really matter (of course it did, I just didn't know why at the time)? "Inside my head, I suppose - "

"You misunderstand me," said Crighton, with the slight tremor still in her voice. "I mean ... can you remember - er - where you were positioned as you watched this attack happen? Were you perhaps standing beside the victim, or else looking down on the scene from above?"

This was such a curious question that I gaped at Crighton; it was almost as though she knew (of course she did, how couldn't she?) ...

"I was the snake," I said. "I saw it all from the snake's point of view."

Nobody else spoke for a moment, then Crighton, who was still looking at Sian's serious face, asked in a slightly stronger and sharper voice, "Is my husband seriously injured?"

 _"Yes,"_ I said emphatically - why were they all so slow on the uptake? Did they not realise how much a person bled when fangs that long pierced their side? And I also wondered why Crighton could not do the courtesy of looking at me.

But Crighton stood up, so quickly that it made me jump, and she addressed one of the portraits that hung very near the ceiling. "Evelyn?" she said sharply. "And you too, Derwent?"

A sallow-faced witch with a short black fringe and an elderly wizard with thick, curly silver hair in the frame beside her, both of whom seemed to be in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.

"You were listening?" said Crighton.

The witch nodded; the wizard said, "Naturally."

"The man has dark brown hair that is slowly turning grey and freckles," said Crighton. "Evelyn, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people - "

Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Dragon Mort) neither reappeared. One frame contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair. I then noticed that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, kept sneaking peeks at me from under their eyelids, and I suddenly understood who had been talking when we had knocked.

"Evelyn and Derwent were two of Dragon Mort's most celebrated Heads," Crighton said, as she swept around myself, Professor Darbus and the Dawsons to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on her perch beside the door. "Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere ..."

"But Mr Dawson could be anywhere!" I said.

"Please sit down, the twelve of you," said Crighton, as though I had not spoken, "Evelyn and Derwent may not be back for several minutes. Professor Darbus, if you could draw up extra chairs."

Professor Darbus pulled her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waved it; twelve chairs appeared out of thin air in two lines of six in front of Crighton's desk, straight-backed and wooden, quite unlike the comfortable chintz armchairs that Crighton had conjured up at my hearing. I sat down, watching Crighton over my shoulder. Crighton stroked Kenna's plumed golden head with one finger. The phoenix awoke immediately. She stretched her beautiful head high and observed Crighton through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," Crighton said very quietly to the bird, "a warning."

There was a flash of fire and the phoenix had gone.

Crighton then swooped down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose functions I had never known, carried it over to her desk, sat down facing us again and tapped it gently with the tip of her wand.

The instrument tinkled into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issued from the miniscule silver tube at the top. Crighton watched the smoke closely, her brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air ... a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. I wondered whether the instrument was confirming my story; I looked eagerly at Crighton for a sign that I was right, but Crighton did not look up.

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Crighton apparently to herself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"

I could make neither head nor tail of that question. The smoke serpent, however, split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, Crighton gave the instrument another gentle tap with her wand: the clinking noise slowed and died and the snake serpents grew faint, became a formless haze and vanished.

Crighton replaced the instrument on its spindly little table. I saw many of the old headmistresses in the portraits follow her with their eyes, then, realising that I was watching them, they hastily pretended to sleep again. I wanted to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before I could do so, there was a shout from the top of the wall to our right; the witch called Evelyn had reappeared in her portrait, panting slightly.

"Crighton!"

"What news?" said Crighton at once.

"I yelled until someone came running," said the witch, who mopped her brow on the curtain behind her, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs - they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check - you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Edward Cunning's portrait to get a good view as they left - "

"Good," said Crighton, as Sian sat up straighter in her chair. "I take it Derwent will have seen him arrive, then - "

And moments later, the curly-haired, silver wizard reappeared in his picture, too; he sank, coughing, into his armchair and said, "Yes, they've taken him to St Mungo's, Crighton ... they carried him past my portrait ... he looks bad ..."

"Thank you," said Crighton. She looked round at Professor Darbus as soon as she heard her voice.

"Shall I go and wake the Fangs for you, Susan?"

"No, let them sleep. I shall speak with them in the morning. It's best if they stay here until term officially ends. That goes for you as well, Sian."

Sian jumped and looked just as surprised as the rest of us felt at her mother's words. "But why, Mother?"

"I know it looks suspicious for you to stay behind, Sian, when your brothers and sisters are going, but with you being here, it will convince some people here that you have no idea of what has passed this night. Therefore, you must "put on a show" (so to speak) and come here with Tanya and Geri tomorrow morning when I call for you. I know you want to be there for you father, Sian," Crighton continued, "but you must trust in my judgement, do you understand?"

Sian slowly nodded her head. Crighton nodded back at her before turning back to Professor Darbus. "Deidre, would I be asking too much of you and some of the staff if you were to keep a close eye on Sian, making sure that she doesn't get questioned, for it will not do for my eldest child to get ambushed at this time, no matter how strong she is."

"Of course, Susan," Professor Darbus said without hesitation. "We'll do what we can."

Crighton nodded at her and turned away. I looked around at the Dawsons, who all looked pale and terrified, but Sian's reaction I did not expect: she was sat up straight and she still had a serious expression etched on her face, but she was breathing deeply and her eyes were shining, though no tears fell.

"And Susan - what about Sarabi? Will she be informed of this situation?" said Professor Darbus.

"That will be a job for Kenna when she has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching," said Crighton.

When Crighton mentioned Grandmother Sarabi, I was suddenly reminded of her Boggart turning into Mr Dawson's lifeless body, blood running down his face ... but Mr Dawson wasn't going to die ... he couldn't ...

Crighton rummaged in a cupboard behind myself, Professor Darbus and the Dawsons. She emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which she placed carefully on her desk. She raised her wand and murmured, _"Portus!"_ For a moment, the kettle trembled and glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.

Crighton marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking witch, with her raven-black hair pinned back, who had been painted wearing the Snake-Eyes colours of green and silver and was apparently sleeping so deeply that she could not hear Crighton's voice when she attempted to rouse her.

"Philomena. _Philomena._ "

The subjects of the portraits lining the room were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking witch continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted her name, too.

"Philomena! _Philomena!_ PHILOMENA!"

She could not pretend any longer after that; she gave a theatrical jerk and opened her eyes wide.

"Did someone call?"

"I need you to visit your other portrait, Philomena," said Crighton. "I've got another message."

"My other portrait?" said Philomena in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn (her eyes travelled all around the room before they came to land and focus upon me). "Oh, no, Crighton, I am much too tired tonight."

Something about Philomena's voice was familiar to me, and I wondered where I had heard it before. But before I could think, the portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest.

"Insubordination, madam!" roared a corpulent, red-nosed witch, brandishing her fists. "Dereliction of duty!"

"We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmistress of Dragon Mort!" cried a frail-looking old witch whom I recognised as Crighton's predecessor, Amanda Dipper. "Shame on you, Philomena!"

"Shall I persuade her, Crighton?" cried a gauntlet-eyed wizard, raising an unusually thick wand that looked not unlike a birch rod.

"Oh, very _well_ ," said the witch called Philomena, eyeing the wand with mild apprehension, "though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family - "

"Pumbaa knows not to destroy your portrait," said Crighton, and I realised immediately where I had heard Philomena's voice before: issuing from the apparently empty frame in my bedroom in Pumbaa's house. "You are to give him the message that Matthew Dawson has been gravely injured and that most of his children, Sarabi and Kiara Pride-Lander will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?"

"Matthew Dawson injured, children, Sarabi and Kiara Pride-Lander coming to stay," repeated Philomena in a bored voice. "Yes, yes ... very well ..."

She sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view. Crighton then turned to face us.

"My children, your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Centaur," she said. "He has been taken to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. "I am sending most of you to Pumbaa's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than Dawson Manor. You will meet Sarabi there, as well as Simba and Nala."

"How're we going?" asked Chris, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"

"No," said Crighton, "Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey." She indicated the old kettle that lay innocently on her desk. "We are just waiting for Philomena Naenia to report back ... and I want to make sure that the coast is clear before sending you - "

There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.

"It is Kenna's warning," said Crighton, catching the feather as it fell. "Professor Umber must know you're out of your beds ... Deidre, go and head him off - tell him any story - "

Professor Darbus leapt out of her chair and was out the door in a flash of tartan.

"He says he'll be delighted," said a bored voice behind Crighton; the witch named Philomena had reappeared in front of her Snake-Eyes banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests."

"Come here, then," Crighton said to myself and the Dawsons, "but not before you've all said farewell to Sian first - but be quick about it, before anyone else joins us."

The Dawsons and I all hugged Sian individually. After she hugged me (I was the last person), she said to us, "I'll be with you in a few days. Be strong for me ... and our father." We all nodded and shared a smile with her before we gathered around Crighton's desk. Chrissie, Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Chris, Joe, Jack, Ben, Dave and I each touched some part of the kettle.

"After three, then," said Crighton. "One ... two ..."

It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Crighton said "three", I looked up at her - we were very close together - and Crighton's clear green gaze moved from the Portkey to my face.

At once, my scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again - and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within me a hatred so powerful that I felt, in that instant, that I would like nothing better than to strike - to bite - to sink my fangs into the woman in front of me -

 _" ... three."_

I felt a powerful jerk behind my navel; the ground vanished from beneath my feet and my hand was glued to the kettle; I banged into the others as we all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, with the kettle pulling us onwards ... until my feet hit the ground so hard that my knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:

"Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?"

"OUT!" roared a second voice.

I scrambled to my feet and looked around; we had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen in Pumbaa's house. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of three suppers. Kleaner disappeared through the door to the hall, but looked back at us malevolently as she hitched up her tea-towel skirt; my parents and Pumbaa hurried towards us, all of them looking anxious. Pumbaa looked well-groomed, but my father looked like he hadn't shaved for days and my mother's hair was a mess.

"What's going on?" Pumbaa said, as he stretched out a hand to help Merida up. "Philomena Naenia said Matt's been attacked - "

"Ask Kiara. She knows what happened," said Chrissie.

"Yeah, I want to hear this for myself," said Chris.

He, Chrissie, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave all stared at me. Kleaner's footsteps stopped on the stairs outside.

"It was - " I began; this was even worse than telling Darbus, Crighton and Sian. "I had a - a kind of - vision ..."

And I told them all that I had seen, though I altered the story so it sounded as though I had watched from the sidelines as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes. When I had finished, Chris, Chrissie, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave all continued to stare at me for a moment. I do not know if I imagined it or not, but I could have sworn that there was something accusatory in there looks. Well, if they were going to blame me just for seeing the attack, I was glad that I had not told them that I had been inside the snake at the time (God, I really hope none of them blame me for that; after all, their father is alive and well, and in some way I did help to save his life that night).

I then noticed that my mother was looking at us, and she noticed that one of us was missing from our group.

"Where's Sian?" she asked. "I thought she would have been with you."

"She's staying behind at the school, for some reason or other," said Chrissie. "She'll be coming here with Tanya and Geri once term officially ends."

Mum looked surprised, but quickly shrugged it off. Chris turned to my father.

"Is your mum here yet?"

"She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet," my father said. "The important thing was to get you away before Umber could interfere. I expect Crighton's letting my mother know now."

"We've got to go to St Mungo's," said Chrissie urgently. She looked at her brothers and sisters, who were of course still in their pyjamas. "Pumbaa, can you lend us cloaks or anything?"

"Hold your horses, kids! You can't all go tearing off to St Mungo's!" said Pumbaa.

"Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want!" said Beth, with a mulish expression. "He's our dad!"

"And how are you going to explain how you knew Matt was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?" my father asked them.

"What does that matter?" said Merida hotly.

"It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Kiara is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!" my father said angrily. "Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?"

Chris, Chrissie, Beth and Merida looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Kestrel, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave all looked angry but thought it wise to remain silent.

Chris said, "Somebody else could have told us ... we could have heard it from someone other than Kiara."

"Like who?" said Mum impatiently. "Listen, your father's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's - "

"Oh, we don't care about the Order!" shouted Chris.

"It's our dad dying we're talking about!" yelled Merida.

"Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!" said Mum, just as angry. "This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!"

"Easy for you to say, stuck here!" bellowed Chris. "I don't see you or Simba out there risking your necks, Nala!"

"Hey!" I shouted, and everyone looked at me, stunned. I was glaring at Chris. How dare he yell at my parents that way? "That's enough from all of you! Look, Chris, Chrissie and the rest of you Dawsons here, I get why you're angry, and you have every right to be, but that does not mean that you can take that anger out on others! What's done is done, and all this arguing is not going to change anything, nor will it be helping us in any way!"

Everyone stared at me like they had never seen me before, and I could see why, for I sounded just like Sian. Looking around, I saw the Dawsons' expressions all change rapidly from anger to shock and then to shame. I then turned to Pumbaa, whose eyes were twinkling and he seemed to be stifling laughter. My eyes then turned to my parents, who were gazing at me with gratefulness and love, but my father's eyes had something more in them, something that made me feel taller in that moment than I had ever felt before: pride.

"Kiara, we're - " Chris began, but I stopped him.

"It's not me you need to apologise to," I snapped, my eyes flickering to my parents. Chris nodded and he, Chrissie, Beth and Merida turned to my parents and mumbled their apologies.

"It's quite all right," my father said, his tone and expression gentle. "Look, I know it's hard, but we've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from my mother or yours, all right?"

We all nodded, some of us reluctantly. Chris then took a few steps over to the nearest chair and sank into it. I looked at Chrissie, who made a funny movement somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and we sat down, too. Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave quickly followed suit.

"That's right," said my father encouragingly, "let's all ... let's all have a drink while we're waiting. _Accio Butterbeer!_ "

He raised his wand as he spoke and thirteen bottles came flying towards us out of the pantry, skidded along the table, scattering the debris of my parents' and Pumbaa's meals, and stopped neatly in front of the thirteen of us. We all drank, and for a while the only sounds were those of the crackling of the kitchen fire and the soft thud of our bottles on the table.

The only reason I drank was because it gave me something to do with my hands. I remember very clearly the feeling of my stomach being full of horrible hot, bubbling guilt. We wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for me; we would have all been asleep in bed. And it was no good telling myself that by raising the alarm I had ensured the Mr Dawson was found, because there was also the inescapable business of who had attacked Mr Dawson in the first place.

 _Don't be stupid, you haven't got fangs,_ I told myself, trying to keep calm, though the hand on my Butterbeer bottle was shaking, _you were lying in bed, you weren't attacking anyone ..._

 _But then, what just happened in Crighton's office?_ I asked myself. _I felt like I wanted to attack Crighton, too ..._

I put the bottle down a little harder than I meant to, and it slopped over on to the table. No one took any notice. Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the dirty plates in front of us and, as we gave cries of shock, a scroll of parchment fell with a thud on to the table, accompanied by a single golden phoenix tail feather.

"Kenna!" said Mum at once, snatching up the parchment. "That's not Crighton's writing - it must be a message from your mother, Simba - here - "

She gave it to my father, who took it at once, ripped it open and read aloud: _"Matt is still alive. I'm setting out for St Mungo's now, and I will meet Crighton there. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Sarabi."_

Merida looked around the table.

"Still alive ..." she said slowly. "But that makes it sound ..."

She did not need to finish the sentence. It sounded to me, too, as though Mr Dawson was hovering somewhere between life and death. Kestrel stared at the back of Grandmother Sarabi's letter as though hoping it would speak some words of comfort to her. Beth pulled it out of my father's hands and read it for herself, then she, as well as Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave looked at me. I felt my hand shaking on my Butterbeer bottle again, and I jumped when I felt a warm hand squeezing mine. I turned to who the hand belonged to and found that it was Chris, who squeezed my fingers and smiled at me gently. I smiled and squeezed his fingers just as gently back, grateful for this small piece of comfort.

I'm pretty sure that that was the longest night that I have ever sat through in my entire life so far. My parents and Pumbaa had suggested once, without any real conviction, that we all go to bed, but the Dawsons' looks of disgust were answer enough. We mostly sat in silence around the table, watching the candle wick sinking lower and lower into liquid wax, occasionally raising a bottle to our lips, speaking only to check the time, to wonder aloud what was happening, and to reassure each other that if there was bad news, we would know straightaway, for Grandmother Sarabi and Crighton must have long since arrived at St Mungo's.

Merida fell into a doze, her head resting on Dave's shoulder, who stroked her hair. Chris had his head on the table, his eyes open, our hands still touching. Chrissie had her head in her hands, whether awake or asleep, I knew not; the rest of the Dawsons had their heads on the table. Pumbaa had his head thrown back in his chair, snoring deeply. My parents and I looked at each other every so often, intruders upon the family grief, waiting ... waiting ...

At ten past five in the morning by Chrissie's watch, the kitchen door swung open and Grandmother Sarabi entered the kitchen. She looked extremely tired, but when we all turned to look at her, Chris, Chrissie and I half-rising from our chairs, she gave a wan smile.

"He's going to be all right," she said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Sam's sitting with him now; she's going to take the morning off work."

The Dawsons all looked at each other, relief slowly spreading over their faces as the truth set in: their father was going to be fine. They all held hands, silently reassuring each other, as tears of pure joy and relief trickled down their faces. I got up and embraced Grandmother Sarabi, who gently hugged me back.

"Breakfast!" said Pumbaa loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed house-elf of mine? Kleaner! KLEANER!"

But Kleaner did not answer the summons.

"Oh, forget it, then," muttered Pumbaa, counting the people in front of him. "So it's breakfast for - let's see - fourteen ... bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast - "

I hurried over to the stove to help. I did not want to intrude on the Dawsons' happiness and I dreaded the moment when Grandmother Sarabi would ask me to recount my vision. However, I had barely taken plates from the dresser when Grandmother Sarabi lifted them out of my arms and pulled me in for another hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Kiara, and nor does Crighton," she said in a muffled voice. "They might not have found Matt for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Crighton's been able to think up a good cover story for Matt being where he was - and not just for him, either; Crighton also helped Sian with her cover story for why she's not here; she'll tell you when she arrives, I'm sure - anyway, you have no idea how much trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Simone ... oh, and Crighton asked me to hug her for you, just so you know ..."

I could hardly bear her gratitude, but fortunately she soon released me to turn to Pumbaa and thank him for looking after the Dawsons and I through the night (I know my parents were there, too, but this _is_ Pumbaa's house, so ...). Pumbaa said he was very pleased to have been able to help, and hoped we would all stay with him so long as Mr Dawson was in hospital.

"Oh, Pumbaa, I'm so grateful ... they think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer ... of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas."

"The more the merrier!" said Pumbaa, with such obvious sincerity that Grandmother Sarabi beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast. "That is, of course, if you don't mind putting up with boring, fat old me for a time?" Pumbaa cracked, with the hint of a smile.

"Oh, come now, Pumbaa, you're not so bad," Mum said, chuckling. "Besides," she said, her gaze softening as she turned to look at me, "it gives Simba and I something extra to celebrate this year, doesn't it, dear?"

"That's right," my father said, smiling at me. He and Mum then both walked over to me and held me tight. "Our first Christmas together as a family since you were a baby, Kiara," he mumbled into my hair.

For a moment, a surge of happiness thrilled me at this thought, thinking of all the activities (limited, given the situation) we could do together. But then the guilt came back, and I knew that I had to talk about it. So I pulled back to look at my parents, who both looked shocked and surprised by what I'd just done, and I said to them, "Can I have a word with you two? Er - _now_?"

I walked into the dark pantry and my parents followed. As soon as Mum shut the door, I told my parents every detail of the vision I had had, including the fact that I myself had been inside the snake who had attacked Mr Dawson.

When I paused for breath, my father said, "Did you tell Crighton this?"

"Yes," I said impatiently, "but she didn't tell me what it meant. Well, she doesn't tell me anything anymore."

"I'm sure she would have told you if it was anything to worry about," said Mum steadily.

"But that's not all," I said, in a voice only a little above a whisper. "Daddy, Mum, I ... I think I'm going mad. Back in Crighton's office, just before we took the Portkey ... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake - I _felt_ like one - my scar really hurt when I was looking at her - Daddy, I wanted to attack her!"

My mother strode towards me, wrapped me in her arms and kissed her forehead. When she pulled back, she looked me straight in the eye. She looked at me seriously, but there was something in her eyes that made me think she was worried or scared.

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all," she said steadily. "You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and - "

"It wasn't like that, Mum," I said, shaking my head, "it was like something rose up inside me, like there's a _snake_ inside me."

My father stepped out of the shadows then and touched my cheek. "You need to sleep," he said firmly. "You're going to have breakfast, then go upstairs to bed, and after lunch you can go and see Matt with the others. You're in shock, Kiara; you're blaming yourself for something you witnessed, and it's lucky you _did_ witness it or Matt might have died. You did nothing wrong, Kiara, so stop worrying, will you?"

"Your father's right, Kiara," said Mum. "Like you said before, what's done is done, and worrying about this is not going to change anything. What you should be focusing on now is breakfast, that's all."

She then kissed my forehead again and my father pinched my cheek gently before they both left the pantry, leaving me alone in the dark.

0000

Everyone but myself spent the rest of the morning sleeping. I went up to the bedroom Chrissie and I shared over the last few weeks of summer, but while Chrissie crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes, I sat fully clothed, hunched against the cold metal bars of my bedstead, keeping myself deliberately uncomfortable, determined not to fall into a doze, terrified that I would become the snake again in my sleep and wake to find that I had attacked Chrissie, or else slithered through the house after one of the others ...

When Chrissie woke, I pretended to have enjoyed a refreshing nap too. Our trunks had arrived from Dragon Mort as we ate lunch, so we could dress as Muggles for the trip to St Mungo's. Everybody except for me was riotously talkative and happy as we changed out of our robes into jeans and sweatshirts. When Todd and Crazy-Head turned up to escort us to London, we greeted them gleefully, laughing at the cap Grumpy had, which covered her head scarf, through which you could see her four magical eyes move, and assuring her, truthfully, that Todd, whose hair was short and bright pink again, would attract far less attention in the centre of London.

As it happened, Crighton had called Joey and his driving partner to drive us to London, so Grumpy took Joey's car with Beth, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave, and Grandmother Sarabi and Todd took the other car with Chris, Chrissie, Kestrel, Merida and I.

On our way to St Mungo's, Todd was very interested in my vision of the attack on Mr Dawson, something that not only was I not interested in discussing, but also something that made everyone in the car very uncomfortable.

"There isn't any _Seer_ blood in your family, is there?" she enquired casually, as we drove to London.

"No," I said, thinking of Professor Crystals and feeling irritated.

"No," said Todd musingly, "no, I suppose it's not really prophecy you're doing, is it? I mean, you're not seeing the future, you're seeing the present ... it's odd, isn't it? Useful, though ..."

I chose not to answer, and no one looked at me or talked to me for the rest of the journey, which I found very disconcerting. I was grateful when we got to London and we were able to get out of the car, for I felt the sharp wind rejuvenated my spirits a little. Once we had all stepped out of the cars, Grandmother Sarabi told Joey that we would all be about an hour. Joey said he'd wait for us, and so we walked down the street with Todd leading us. Grumpy clunked along at the back of the group, her cap tilted low and one gnarled hand stuck in between the buttons on her coat, clutching her wand. I thought I sensed one of her concealed eyes staring at me. Trying to avoid any more questions about my dream, I asked Crazy-Head about where St Mungo's was hidden (never having got anything serious as a child, there was no need for me to know about - or visit - the hospital).

"Not far from here," grunted Grumpy, as we kept walking down the broad store-lined street that was packed with Christmas shoppers. She pushed me a little ahead of her and slumped along just behind; I knew the eyes were rolling in all direction beneath her headscarf and cap. "Wasn't easy to find a good location for a hospital. Nowhere in Brickabon Alley was big enough and we couldn't have it underground like the Ministry - wouldn't be healthy. In the end we managed to get hold of a building up here. Theory was, sick wizards could come and go and just blend in with the crowd."

She seized my shoulder to prevent us from being separated by a gaggle of shoppers who were plainly intent on nothing but making it into a nearby shop full of the latest winter fashions.

"Here we go," said Grumpy a moment later.

We had arrived outside a large, old-fashioned, red-brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The place had a shabby, miserable air about it; the window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, standing at random and modelling fashions that were at least thirty years old. Large signs on all the dusty doors read: "Closed for Refurbishment". I distinctly heard a large woman with plastic shopping bags say to her friend as they passed, "It's _never_ open, that place ..."

"Right," said Todd, beckoning us towards a window that displayed nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy. Its fales eyelashes were hanging off and it was modelling a green nylon pinafore dress. "Everybody ready?"

We nodded, clustering around her. Grumpy gave me another shove between the shoulder blades to urge me forwards and Todd leaned close to the glass, looking up at the very ugly dummy, her breath steaming up the glass. "Wotcher," she said, "we're here to see Matthew Dawson."

I thought how absurd it was for Todd to expect the dummy to hear her talking so quietly through a sheet of glass, with buses rumbling along behind her and all the racket of a street full of shoppers. Then I reminded myself that dummies couldn't hear anyway. Next second, my mouth opened in shock as the dummy gave a tiny nod and beckoned with its jointed finger, and Todd led Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Ben and Dave through the glass and vanished.

Grandmother Sarabi, Chris, Chrissie, Joe and Jack stepped after them. I glanced around at the jostling crowd; not one of them seemed to have a glance to spare for window displays as ugly as those of Purge & Dowse Ltd.; nor did any of them seem to have noticed that eleven people had just melted into thin air in front of them.

"C'mon," growled Grumpy, giving me yet another poke in the back, and together we stepped through what felt like a sheet of cool water, and we emerged quite warm and dry on the other side.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. We were in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and perusing out-of-date copies of _Wizard Weekly_ , others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as anteater tongues or extra feet sticking out of their legs. The room was scarcely less quiet than the street outside, for many of the patients made very peculiar noises; a sweaty-faced wizard in the centre of the front row, who was fanning himself vigorously with a copy of the _Daily Squabbler_ , kept breathing fire every few minutes or so; a grubby-looking witch in the corner made a rattle noise every time she moved and, with each rattle, her head vibrated so horribly that she had to seize herself by the ears to hold it steady.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked up and down rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umber's. I noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are they doctors?" I asked Chrissie quietly.

"Doctors?" said Chrissie, looking startled. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Over here!" called Grandmother Sarabi, above the renewed rattling of the witch in the corner, and we followed her to queue in front of a blond, thin, pimpled wizard, seated at a desk marked _Enquiries_. The wall behind him was covered in notices and posters saying things like: A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS and ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A Qualified HEALER. There were also two large portraits, one of which was empty, but the second portrait was of a wizard with curly silver hair, which was labelled:

 _Derwnt Dobster_

 _St Mungo's Healer 1732 - 1751_

 _Headmaster of Dragon Mort Magical Academy_

 _1751 - 1778_

Derwent eyed the Dawson party closely as though he was counting us; when I caught his eye, he gave a tiny wink, walked sideways out of his portrait and vanished.

Meanwhile, at the front of the queue, a young witch was performing an odd on-the-spot jig and trying, in between yelps of pain, to explain her predicament to the wizard behind the desk.

"It's these - ouch - shoes my sister gave me - ow - they're eating my - OUCH - feet - look at them, there must be some kind of - AARGH - jinx on them and I can't - AAAAARGH - get them off." She hopped from one foot to the other as though dancing on hot coals.

"The shoes don't prevent you from reading, do they?" said the blond wizard, irritably pointing at a large sign to the left of his desk. "You want spell damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

As the witch hobbled and pranced sideways out of the way, the Dawson party moved forward a few steps and I read the floor guide:

ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS ... Ground Floor

 _Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc._

CREATURE-INDUCED INCIDENTS ... First Floor

 _Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc._

MAGICAL BUGS ... Second Floor

 _Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc._

POTION AND PLANT POISONING ... Third Floor

 _Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc._

SPELL DAMAGE ... Fourth Floor

 _Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc._

VISITORS TEAROOM / HOSPITAL SHOP ... Fifth Floor

IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOME WITCH / WIZARD WILL BE ABLE TO HELP.

A very old, stooped witch with a hearing trumpet shuffled to the front of the queue. "I'm here to see Briana Bass!" she wheezed.

"Ward forty-nine, but I'm afraid you're wasting your time," said the wizard dismissively. "She's completely addled, you know - still thinks she's an iron. Next!"

A harassed-looking witch held her small son tightly by the ankle while he flapped around her head using the immensely large, feathery wings that had sprouted right out through the back of his romper suit.

"Fourth floor," said the wizard in a bored voice, without asking, and the woman disappeared through the double doors behind the desk, holding her son like an oddly shaped balloon. "Next!"

Grandmother Sarabi moved forward to the desk.

"Hello," she said, "I'm here with the Dawson children. Their father, Matthew Dawson, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us - ?"

"Matthew Dawson?" said the wizard, running his finger down a long list in front of him. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you," said Grandmother Sarabi. "Come on, you lot."

We followed her through the double doors and along the narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of doors we passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as we passed one door, and every now and then we heard distant wailing. We climbed a flight of stairs and entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words: _"Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn Ward: Serious Bites_. Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten: _Healer-in-Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck. Trainee Healer: Alane Pyke_.

"We'll wait outside, Sarabi," Todd said. "Matt won't want us in there ... it ought to be just the family first."

Crazy-Head growled her approval of this idea and set herself with her back against the wall, her magical eyes spinning in all directions beneath her headscarf. I drew back, too, but Grandmother Sarabi reached out a hand and pushed me through the door, saying, "Don't be silly, Kiara, Matt wants to thank you."

The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of panelled oak and there was a portrait of a vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned: _Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612 - 1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse_.

If I remember rightly, there were only three patients there. Mr Dawson was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. I was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows and was reading the _Daily Squabbler_ by the solitary ray of sunlight that fell on to his bed. He looked up as we walked towards him and, seeing who it was, beamed. I saw a quick flash of disappointment flash across his eyes, and I immediately knew why: he wanted to see Sian, but he quickly got over it, pleased to see the rest of his family.

"Hello!" he called, throwing the _Squabbler_ aside. "Sam and me mam just left, Sarabi. She had to drop me mam off home before heading to work, but she says she'll drop in on you later."

"How are you, Matt?" asked Grandmother Sarabi, looking anxiously at his face. "You're still looking a bit peaky."

"I feel absolutely fine," said Mr Dawson, beckoning his children to him, which they obliged without a moment's hesitation; they crowded around him eagerly, each child wanting to touch their father, to truly make sure he was real and alive and with them. Once they had all gotten their fill of their father, the Dawsons all pulled back, some wiping tears from their eyes, but all of them beaming just as widely as their father, who turned back to Sarabi and said, "If they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" Merida asked.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," said Mr Dawson cheerfully, reaching across for his wand, which lay on his bedside cabinet, and waving it so that eleven extra chairs appeared at his bedside to seat us all. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open. They're sure they'll find an antidote, though; they said they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there," he said, dropping his voice and nodding toward the bed opposite in which a man lay looking green and sickly and staring at the ceiling. "Bitten by a _werewolf_ , poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" whispered Grandmother Sarabi, looking alarmed. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

"It's two weeks 'til full moon," Mr Dawson reminded her quietly. "They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him - didn't mention names, of course - but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage."

"What did he say?" asked Chrissie.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up," said Mr Dawson sadly. "And that woman over _there_ ," he indicated the only other bed, which was right beside the door, "won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, _very_ nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

"Have you had any word from Ma about how Sian is, Dad?" asked Chris.

Mr Dawson sighed and said, "Yes, I have. Distraught, Sian was, your mother told me. Said that as soon as you lot had gone, she ran to her mother and sobbed convulsively. She calmed down, though, as soon as she learned I was going to be fine. Professor Darbus stayed with her when your mother came to see me. Once your mother had calmed Sian down, she then asked her if she wanted the day off, but your sister firmly stood her ground and said no, for not only would it make Umber suspicious, but school would also take her mind off what had happened to me. Your mother's talked with Tanya and Geri, who're looking after Sian over the next few days. I know all this because your mother sent me a message a few minutes before me mam and Sam left," he finished, pointing at a large scroll lying next to a phoenix feather.

I felt sorry for Sian, not just for the fact that she could have lost her father, but also for having to stay away from her family when they needed her most. After some time, Chrissie asked her father, "So, are you going to tell us what happened, Dad?"

"Well, you already know, don't you?" said Mr Dawson, with a significant smile at me. "It's very simple, really - I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on and bitten."

"Is it in the _Squabbler_ , you being attacked?" asked Chris, indicating the newspaper Mr Dawson had cast aside.

"No, of course not," said Mr Dawson, with a slightly bitter smile, "the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a great serpent got - "

"Matthew!" said Grandmother Sarabi warningly.

" - got - er - me," Mr Dawson said hastily, though I was quite sure this was not what he had meant to say.

"So, where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked Chrissie.

"That's my business," said Mr Dawson, though with a small smile. He snatched up the _Daily Squabbler_ , shook it open again and said, "I was just reading about Whitney Wallace's arrest when you arrived. Apparently, last summer she was responsible for enchanting toasters to keep firing bread out of them. One of her jinxes backfired, the toaster exploded, and they found her lying unconscious in the wreckage covered in - "

"When you say you were "on duty"," Chris interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

"You heard your father," whispered Grandmother Sarabi, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Whitney Wallace, Matt."

"Well, don't ask me how, but she actually got off the toilet charge," said Mr Dawson grimly. "I can only suppose gold changed hands - "

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said Chrissie quietly. "The weapon? The thing She-You-Know's after?"

"Chrissie, be quiet!" snapped Grandmother Sarabi.

"Anyway," said Mr Dawson, in a raised voice, "this time Whitney's been caught selling biting teacups to Muggles and I don't think she'll be able to worm her way out of it because, according to this article, two Muggles have lost two fingers and are now in St Mungo's for emergency bone re-growth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St Mungo's! Wonder which ward they're in?"

And he looked eagerly around as though hoping to see a signpost.

"Didn't you say She-You-Know's got a snake, Kiara?" asked Chris, looking at his father for a reaction. "A massive one? You saw it the night she returned, didn't you?"

"That's enough," said Grandmother Sarabi crossly. "Crazy-Head and Todd are outside, Matt, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside," she added to myself and Mr Dawson's children. "You can come and say goodbye afterwards. Go on."

We trooped back into the corridor. Crazy-Head and Todd went in and closed the door of the ward behind them. Chrissie raised her eyebrows.

"Fine," she said coolly, as the Tweebs rummaged in their pockets, "be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Here," Jack said, handing out hearing aids, as Joe pulled out a small transmitter. I hesitated to take one.

"Go on, Kiara, take it! You saved Dad's life! If anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him, it's you!"

Grinning in spite of myself, I took one of the hearing aids and inserted it into my ear. Jack placed the transmitter on the floor.

"OK, go!" Chris whispered.

Joe turned the transmitter on and the hearing aids immediately switched on. At first, I heard nothing, then I jumped as I heard Todd's whispering as clearly as though she was standing right beside me.

" ... they searched the whole area but couldn't find the snake anywhere. It just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Matt ... but, She-You-Know can't have expected a snake to get in, can she?"

"I reckon she sent it as a lookout," growled Grumpy, "'cause she's not had any luck so far, has she? No, I reckon she's trying to get a clear picture of what she's facing and if Matt hadn't been there the beast would've had a lot more time to look around. So, Pride-Lander says she saw it all happen?"

"Yes," said Grandmother Sarabi. She sounded rather uneasy. "You know, Crighton seems almost to have been waiting for Kiara to see something like this."

"Yeah, well," said Grumpy, "there's something funny about the Pride-Lander kid, we all know that."

"Crighton seemed worried about Kiara when I spoke to her this morning," whispered Grandmother Sarabi.

"Course she's worried," growled Grumpy. "Your granddaughter's seeing things from inside She-You-Know's snake. Obviously, Pride-Lander doesn't realise what this means, but if She-You-Know's possessing her - "

I pulled the hearing aid out of my ear, my heart hammering in my chest as the blood rushed to my cheeks. I looked around at the others. They were all staring at me, the hearing aids still in their ears, looking suddenly fearful.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

 **Christmas on the Closed Ward**

 **KIARA**

In the first car on the way back to Pumbaa's house from the hospital, with Chris, Chrissie, Merida and Dave in the back, with Grandmother Sarabi and Todd and Joey at the wheel in the front, the first question that popped into my head was this: why would Crighton no longer meet my eyes? Did she expect to see Zira staring out of them, afraid, perhaps, that my dark amber eyes might turn suddenly scarlet, with catlike slits for pupils? I then remembered how the snakelike face of Zira had once forced itself out of the back of Professor Quarrell's head, and I ran my hand over the back of my own, wondering what it would feel like if Zira burst out of my own skull. I shuddered at the thought.

I remember feeling dirty and contaminated, as though I were carrying some deadly germ, unworthy to sit in the car with innocent, clean people whose minds and bodies were free of the taint of Zira ... I had not merely seen the snake, I had _been_ the snake, I knew that now ...

A truly terrible thought then occurred to me, a memory bobbing to the surface of my mind, one that made my insides writhe and squirm like serpents.

 _What's she after, apart from followers?_

 _Stuff she can only get by stealth ... like a weapon. Something she didn't have last time._

 _I'm the weapon_ , I thought, as something like poison pumped through my veins, chilling me, bringing me out in a sweat as the cars rumbled onwards. I'm the one Zira's trying use, that's why they've got guards around me everywhere I go, so it's not for my protection, it's for other people's, only it's not working, they can't have someone on me all the time at Dragon Mort ... I _did_ attack Mr Dawson last night, it was me. Zira made me do it and she could be inside me, listening to my thoughts right now -

"Are you all right, sweety?" whispered Grandmother Sarabi as we drove along, turning around in her seat to look at me. "You don't look very well. Are you sick?"

I looked around and saw that everyone was looking at me. I shook my head violently and looked out the passenger window.

"Kiara, are you _sure_ you're all right?" said Grandmother Sarabi in a worried voice, as we walked up the damp earth to Pumbaa's house. "You look ever so pale ... are you sure you slept this morning? You go upstairs to bed right now and you can have a couple of hours sleep before dinner, all right?"

I nodded; here was a ready-made excuse for me to not talk to any of the others, which was precisely what I wanted, so when I opened the front door I hurried straight past the ogre's-leg umbrella stand, up the stairs and into mine and Chrissie's bedroom.

Once there, I began to pace up and down, past the two beds and Philomena Naenia's empty picture frame, my brain teeming and seething with questions and ever more dreadful ideas.

How had I become a snake? Perhaps I was an Animagus ... no, I couldn't be, I would know; besides, I had my Animal Spirit pendant ... perhaps _Zira_ was an Animagus ... yes, I thought, that would fit, she would turn into a snake of course ... and when she's possessing me, then we both transform ... that still doesn't explain how I got to London and back to my bed in the space of five minutes ... but then Zira's about the most powerful witch in the world, apart from Crighton, it's no problem at all to her to transport people like that.

And then, with a terrible stab of panic, I thought, _but this is insane - if Zira's possessing me, I'm giving her a clear view into the Headquarters of the Order of the Centaur right now! She'll know who's in the Order and where my parents are ... and I've heard loads of stuff I shouldn't have, everything my parents told me the first night I was here ..._

There was only one thing for it: I was going to have to leave Pumbaa's house straightaway. I would spend Christmas at Dragon Mort with the others which would keep them safe over the holidays at least ... but no, that wouldn't do, for there were still plenty of people at Dragon Mort to maim and injure. What if it was Zara, Dena or Nikita next time? I then stopped my pacing and was stood staring at Philomena Naenia's empty frame. A leaden sensation was settling in the pit of my stomach. I had no alternative: I had to return to my grandmothers' cottage, and cut myself off from other wizards entirely.

Well, if I had to do it, I thought, there was no point hanging around. Trying with all my might not to think how Grandmother Sarafina would act when I showed up on her doorstep six months earlier than she had expected, and not to mention all the questions she was going to ask me, I strode over to my trunk, slammed the lid shut and locked it, then I glanced around automatically for Harold before I remembered that he was still at Dragon Mort - well, his cage was one less thing to carry - I seized one end of my trunk and had dragged it halfway towards the door when a snide voice said, "Running away, are we?"

I looked around. Philomena Naenia had reappeared on the canvas of her portrait and leant against the frame, watching me with an amused expression on her face.

"Not running away, no," I said shortly, dragging my trunk a few more feet across the room.

"I thought," said Philomena Naenia, tapping her cheek with a long, pointed finger, "that to belong in Lion-Heart house you were supposed to be _brave_? It looks to me as though you would have been better off in my own house. We Snake-Eyes are brave, yes, but not stupid. For instance, given the choice, we will always choose to save our own necks."

"It's not my own neck I'm saving," I said tersely, tugging the trunk over a particularly uneven patch of earth-strewn carpet that was right in front of the door.

"Oh, I _see_ ," said Philomena Naenia, still tapping her cheek with her finger, "this is no cowardly fight - you are being _noble_."

I ignored her. My hand was on the doorknob when Philomena Naenia said lazily, "I have a message for you from Susan Crighton."

I spun round.

"What is it?"

" "Stay where you are." "

"I haven't moved!" I said, my hand still upon the doorknob. "So what's the message?"

"I have just given it to you, dolt," said Philomena Naenia smoothly. "Crighton says, _"Stay where you are"_."

"Why?" I said eagerly, dropping the end of my trunk. "Why does she want me to stay? What else did she say?"

"Nothing whatsoever," said Philomena Naenia, raising a thin black eyebrow as though she found me impertinent.

My temper rose to the surface like a snake rearing from the grass. I was exhausted and confused beyond measure, I had experienced terror, relief, then terror again in those twelve hours, and still Crighton refused to talk to me!

"So that's it, is it?" I said loudly. " _"Stay where you are."_ That's all anyone could tell me after I got attacked by those Stingers, too! Just stay-put while the grown-ups sort it all out, Kiara! We won't bother telling you anything, though, because your tiny little brain might not be able to cope with it!"

"You know," said Philomena Naenia, even more loudly than I, "this is precisely why I _loathed_ being a teacher! Young people are so infernally convinced that they are absolutely right about everything. Has it not occurred to you, my poor puffed-up popinjay, that there might be an excellent reason why the Headmistress of Dragon Mort is not confiding every tiny detail of her plans to you? Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that by following Crighton's orders has never led you into harm? No. No, like all young people, you are quite sure that you alone feel and think, you alone recognise danger, you alone are the only one clever enough to realise what the Scarlet Lady may be planning - "

"She _is_ planning something to do with me, then?" I said swiftly.

"Did I say that?" said Philomena Naenia, idly stroking down her silk robes. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have better things to do than to listen to adolescent agonising ... so good-day to you."

And she strolled to the edge of her frame and out of sight.

"Fine, go then!" I bellowed at the empty frame. "And tell Crighton, thanks for nothing!"

The empty canvas remained silent. Fuming, I dragged my trunk back to the foot of my bed, then threw myself face down on the moth-eaten corners, my eyes shut, my body heavy and aching.

I felt as though I had journeyed for miles and miles ... it seemed impossible to me that less than twenty-four hours ago Khan Chan had been approaching me under the mistletoe ... I was so tired ... I was scared to sleep ... yet I did not know how I could fight it ... Crighton had told me to stay ... that must mean I was allowed to sleep ... but I was scared ... what if it happened again?

I was sinking into the shadows ...

It was as though there was a film inside my head that was waiting to start. I walked down a deserted dark corridor towards a plain black door, past rough stone walls, torches, and an open doorway on to a flight of stone steps leading downstairs on the left ...

I reached the black door but could not open it ... I stood gazing at it, desperate for entry ... something I wanted with all my heart lay beyond ... a prize beyond my dreams ... if only my scar would stop prickling ... then I would be able to think more clearly ...

"Kiara," said Chrissie's voice from far, far away, "Sarabi says dinner's ready, but she'll save you something if you want to stay in bed."

I opened my eyes, but Chrissie had already left the room.

 _She doesn't want to be on her own with me,_ I thought. _Not after what she heard Grumpy say._

I supposed that none of them would want me there any more, now that they knew what was inside me.

I didn't go down to dinner that night; parents or no parents, I thought it wise not to inflict my company on them. I therefore turned over on to my other side and, after a while, I dropped back off to sleep. I woke much later, in the early hours of the morning, my insides squirming with hunger and Chrissie snoring softly in the next bed. Squinting around the room, I saw the dark outline of Philomena Naenia standing again in her portrait and it occurred to me then that Crighton had probably sent Philomena Naenia to watch over me, in case I attacked somebody else.

The feeling of being unclean intensified within me. I half-wished I had not obeyed Crighton ... if this was how life was going to be for me in Pumbaa's house, maybe I would be better off back at my grandmothers' cottage after all. Of course, if I had disobeyed Crighton, then I would not have met a very good friend, whose help and advice reassured me that I didn't do anything ...

0000

Everyone apart from me spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations. I could not remember my parents or Pumbaa being in such good moods; they actually sung carols, apparently delighted that they had company over Christmas. I heard their voices echoing up through the floor in the cold drawing room where I was sat alone, watching the drizzle outside the windows, all the time feeling a savage pleasure that I was giving the others the opportunity to keep talking about me, as they were bound to be doing. When I heard Grandmother Sarabi calling me softly up the stairs around lunchtime, I retreated further upstairs and ignored her.

Around six o'clock that evening the doorbell rang and Mrs Warts started screaming again. Assuming that Mona or some other Order member had come to call, I merely settled myself more comfortably against the wall of Noelani's room where I was hiding, trying to ignore the hunger I felt and the excited hushed voices I heard from downstairs as I fed dead rats to the Hippogriff. It came as a slight shock to me when somebody hammered hard on the door about five minutes later.

"I know you're in there," said Sian's voice. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you?"

I pulled open the door as Noelani resumed her scratching at the straw-strewn floor for any fragments of rat she may have dropped, and there stood Sian, hair wet, with tired, red eyes, but looking reflectively happy to see me, nonetheless. Before I could stop her, she pulled me into a tight hug, which I tried to escape from, for I felt I did not deserve it, but she wouldn't let me go for about thirty seconds. When she finally did, I started asking her questions, but Sian quickly stopped me.

"Not here," she said quickly. "We'll talk in your room. Sarabi's lit a fire in there, she's left sandwiches for us and there are a few people in there who want to talk to you. Come on."

I reluctantly followed her back to the second floor. When I entered the bedroom, I was rather surprised to see Grandmother Sarabi, my parents, Chris, Chrissie and Kestrel sat on mine and Chrissie's beds.

"I'll get to why Kestrel's here in a moment," said Sian airily, pulling off her jacket before I had time to speak. "These past two days have been the most longest days of my entire life so far. Ma spoke to Tanya and Geri yesterday about what happened to Dad. Needless to say, they were both fuming about being the last to know, but they understood. They took care of me pretty good; if anything, I think they did it because they love him like a father. We've just arrived by Knight Bus, and Timon was there to pick us up. Anyhoo, Umber is already livid that you lot disappeared right under his nose, even though Ma told him Dad was in St Mungo's and she'd given you all permission to visit. Oh, and Ma told him that the only reason I didn't go with you is because I have to wear ear plugs to help me sleep, and when Professor Darbus came and woke me a few hours later, it was too late for me to go with you guys. I was upset enough that I think Umber bought it, and fortunately enough he didn't question me about it. So ..."

Chris and Chrissie then got up and walked to Sian.

"It's good to see you, sister," said Chris, hugging her.

"Yeah, we've really missed you - even if it has been two days," said Chrissie, smiling sheepishly at Sian. Sian just rolled her eyes, simply content to be with her family again.

"I've missed you all, too," she said, letting go of Chris and embracing Chrissie, smiling widely. Sian then sat down next to Kestrel as Chris and Chrissie resumed their seats and they all looked at me.

"How're you feeling?" asked Sian.

"Fine," I said stiffly.

"Kiara, you are _not_ fine!" said Grandmother Sarabi sternly. "You've been hiding since we got back from St Mungo's yesterday."

"We're concerned about you, Kiara," my father said, with worry evident in his eyes.

"We all are," Mum added. Everyone around me nodded at this.

"Plus, you won't look at any of us," said Chris.

"It's you lot who won't look at me!" I said angrily.

"Maybe you're taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other," suggested Sian, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Very funny," I snapped, turning away.

"Oh, stop feeling all misunderstood," said Sian sharply. "Look, the others have told me what you overheard last night after you left the ward - "

"Yeah?" I growled, my hands deep in my pockets as I watched the snow falling thickly outside. "All been talking about me, have you? Well, I'm getting used to it."

"We wanted to talk to _you_ , Kiara," said Chris, "but as you've been hiding ever since we got back - "

"I don't want anyone to talk to me," I said, feeling more and more nettled.

"Kiara, enough of this foolishness!" Sian snapped. I turned to face her; she was staring at me with a rather firm glare. "Kiara, we _do_ want to talk to you. We love you and are concerned about you and we want to help you, but we can't if you keep hiding from us, and the more you shut us out, the more you're hurting us by not talking to us."

I was struck speechless by those words, for I had not even realised that I was hurting them all; and as I looked at them, I realised that Sian's words were true. A feeling of guilt then ran through me.

"I'm so sorry," I said genuinely. "I didn't realise - "

"That's obvious," Sian muttered. Then she said in a normal level of hearing, "Look, we know you're sorry, and we forgive you, but you've failed to realise that there's only one person in this room who has been possessed by Zira, and she can tell you exactly how that feels." Sian turned to her sister, Kestrel, and so did I.

As I looked at Kestrel, who looked at me steadily, I remembered what had happened in my second year and what happened to Kestrel, and it was that and the impact of Sian's words that hit me hard.

"I - I'm sorry, Kestrel," I said. "I forgot."

"I wish I could," said Kestrel in a small voice. Sian put an arm around her, and put her head on top of her sister's.

After a moment, I said, "So ... so, do you think I'm being possessed, then?"

Sian and Kestrel let go of each other. Kestrel looked up at me and asked, "Well, can you remember everything you've been doing? Are there blank periods where you don't know what you've been up to?"

I racked my brain.

"No," I said.

"Then She-You-Know hasn't ever possessed you," said Kestrel simply. "When she did it to me, I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time. I'd find myself somewhere and not know how I got there."

I hardly dared to believe her, yet my heart lightened almost in spite of myself.

"That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though - "

"Kiara, you've had those dreams before," Sian said. "You had flashes of what Zira was up to last year."

"This was different," I said, shaking my head. "I was _inside_ the snake. It was like I _was_ the snake ... what if Zira somehow transported me to London - ?"

"One day," Sian said, sounding thoroughly exasperated, "you'll read _Dragon Mort: A History_ , and perhaps it will remind you that you can't Apparate or Disapparate within Dragon Mort. Even Zira couldn't make you fly out of your dormitory, Kiara. And besides that, you didn't leave your bed once, for I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before I could wake you up."

I started pacing up and down the room again, thinking. What they said was not only comforting, but it also made sense ... without really thinking, I took a sandwich from the plate on the bed and crammed it hungrily into my mouth.

 _I'm not the weapon after all_ , I thought. My heart swelled with happiness and relief, as I looked at my parents and Grandmother Sarabi, who were all smiling happily at me, clearly thrilled to see that I was eating.

"That's it, sweety," said Grandmother Sarabi, getting up and coming to see me. "You eat as much as you need to." Her expression then turned serious and she said, "I know that you and the Dawsons that were there listened in on our conversation with those Electronic Ear things that Tanya and Geri made."

I gulped down my bite of sandwich. "You do?"

"Yes, I do," said Grandmother Sarabi, "and as such, you and the Dawsons will go without desert until you are back at school - apart from you, Sian dear," she added more kindly turning to Sian. "You and Tanya and Geri will get your cake and you may eat it - but no passing to your brothers and sisters, all right?"

"Yes, Sarabi," said Sian at once.

"Good," said Grandmother Sarabi. She then gave me a quick hug and said, "Well, I can't stand around here all day. I've got dinner to sort out for tonight." She patted my cheek gently and left. I turned back to my parents.

My mother stood up and came to me then. Stroking my hair back, she said, "If you ever need someone to talk to, don't ever hesitate to come to us, all right?"

"Yes, Mum," I said, and we hugged. We let go, and she walked towards the door and leant against it, waiting for my father, who came and hugged me.

As he hugged me, he whispered in my ear, "You have a good friend in Sian. Listen to her. Never take her advice for granted."

"I know, and I won't," I whispered back. He pulled back, kissed my head softly, then he and my mother left the room, the pair of them singing, "God Rest Ye, Merry Hippogriffs" at the tops of their voices.

0000

How on earth could I have wanted to return to my grandmothers' cottage for Christmas? My parents and Pumbaa were all delighted in having the house full again, my parents even more so for having me back, and their joy was infectious. My mother was no longer the sullen hostess she had been that summer; now she seemed determined that we should all enjoy ourselves as much, if not more than we would have done at Dragon Mort, and she, my father and Pumbaa all worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with our help, so that by the time we all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognisable. The tarnished chandelier were no longer hung with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over the threadbare carpets; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mona and decorated with live fairies, blocked Pumbaa's family tree from view, and even the stuffed elf-heads on the wall wore Father Christmas hats and beards.

I woke on Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of my bed and Chrissie already halfway through opening her own pile.

"Good haul this year," she informed me through a cloud of paper. "Thanks for the broom compass, it's excellent; beats Sian's - she got me a _homework planner_ \- "

I sorted through my presents and found one with Sian's handwriting on it. She had given me, along with a cushion that had a painting of my grandmothers' cottage and the same embroidery writing around it, a book that resembled a diary, except every time I opened a page it said aloud things like: _"Do it today or later you'll pay!"_

My parents, Meers and Pumbaa had given me a set of excellent books entitled _Practical Defensive Magic and its Use Against the Dark Arts_ , which had superb moving colour illustrations of all the counter-jinxes and hexes it described. I flicked through the first volume eagerly; I instantly saw how useful it would be concerning my plans for the CA. My parents and Grandmother Sarabi gave me a necklace and earrings: the three were silver, and the jewels were blue saphires, which were huge and in the shape of hearts (large for the necklace and small for the earrings, but not studs). Mina had sent me a furry brown wallet that had fangs, which were presumably supposed to be an anti-theft device, but unfortunately prevented me from putting any money in without getting my fingers ripped off. Todd's present was a small working model of a Firecracker, which I watched flying around the room, all the while wishing I still had my full-size version; Chrissie had given me an enormous box of All-Flavour Beans, Chris had given me a carving of a lion out of red wood that he had carved himself, Mr Dawson had bought me cashmere gloves and scarf set, all sky-blue; the rest of the Dawsons got me various bits of make-up (apart from Kestrel, who bought me a watercolour kit, complete with brushes), and Dokey had sent me a truly dreadful painting that I suspected had been done by the elf herself. I had just turned it upside-down to see whether it looked better that way when, with a loud _crack_ , Tanya and Geri Apparated right at the foot of my bed.

"Merry Christmas," said Geri. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" said Chrissie.

"Sian's fuming," said Tanya heavily. "Perdy sent back her Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," added Geri. "Hasn't asked how Uncle Matt is or visited him or anything."

"We tried to comfort her," said Tanya, moving around the bed to look at my portrait. "Told her Perdy's nothing more than a humungous pile of rat droppings."

"Didn't work," said Geri, helping herself to a Multi-Flavour Fruit-Frog. "Yelled at us, saying that just because Perdy isn't as close to us as she used to be, doesn't stop her from being family; you know how serious Sian takes family. So Meers is trying to calm her down. Best leave him to it before we go down to breakfast, I suppose."

"What's that supposed to be, anyway?" asked Tanya, squinting at Dokey's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."

"It's Kiara!" said Geri, pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," said Tanya, grinning. I threw my homework diary at her; it hit the wall opposite and fell to the floor, where it said happily: _"If you've cross the "I"s and dotted the "t"s, then you may do whatever you please!"_

We got up and dressed. We could hear the various occupants of the house calling "Merry Christmas" to each other. We met Sian at the bottom of the stairs, slightly red in the face, but otherwise looking relatively happy.

"Thanks for the book, Kiara," she said happily. "I've been wanting that _New Theory of Numerology_ for ages! Chrissie, that first edition of _Jane Eyre_ is going to go directly on to the Muggle fiction part of my bookshelf in my room at home. And Chris, that carving of the phoenix is beautiful! You really do have a gift!"

"Thanks, S.D.," he said, looking pleased with himself. "Who's that for, anyway?" he added, nodding at the neatly wrapped present she was carrying.

"Kleaner," said Sian brightly.

"It had better not be clothes!" Chrissie warned her. "You know what Pumbaa said: Kleaner knows too much, we can't set her free!"

"It isn't clothes," said Sian, "although if I had my way I'd certainly give her something to wear other than those filthy old rags. No, it's a patchwork quilt, I thought it would brighten up her bedroom."

"What bedroom?" I said, dropping my voice to a whisper as we passed the portrait of Pumbaa's mother.

"Well, Pumbaa said it's not a bedroom, more a kind of - _den_ ," said Sian. "Apparently she sleeps under the boiler in that cupboard off the kitchen."

Grandmother Sarabi was the only person in the basement when we arrived there. She was stood over the stove, but turned to greet us happily with a "Merry Christmas" and a warm smile.

"So, is this Kleaner's bedroom?" said Chris, strolling over to a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry. I had never seen it open.

"Yes," said Sian, who sounded a little nervous. "Er ... I think we'd better knock."

Chris rapped on the door with his knuckles but there was no reply.

"She must be sneaking around upstairs," he said, and without further ado pulled open the door. _"Urgh!"_

I peered inside. Most of the cupboard was taken up with a very large and old-fashioned boiler, but in the foot of space underneath the pipes Kleaner had made herself something that looked like a nest. A jumble of assorted rags and smelly old blankets were piled on the floor and the small dent in the middle of it showed where Kleaner curled up to sleep every night. Here and there among the material were stale bread crust and mouldy old bits of cheese. In a far corner glinted small objects and coins that I guessed Kleaner had saved, magpie-like, from Pumbaa's purge of the house, and she had also managed to retrieve the silver-framed family photographs that Pumbaa had thrown away over the summer. Their glass might've been shattered, but still the little black-and-white people inside them peered up at me haughtily, including - I felt a little jolt in my stomach - the dark, heavy-lidded woman whose trial I had witnessed in the Pensieve (even though she wasn't part of it, but was supposed to be): Katalina Outsider. By the looks of it, hers was Kleaner's favourite photograph. she had placed it to the fore of all the others and had mended the glass clumsily with Sellotape.

"I think I'll just leave her present here," said Sian, laying the package in the middle of the depression in the rags and blankets and closing the door quietly. "She'll find it later, it'll be fine."

"Come to think of it," said Pumbaa, emerging from the pantry carrying a large turkey as we closed the cupboard door. "Has anyone actually seen Kleaner lately?"

"I haven't seen her since the night we came back here," I said. "You were ordering her out of the kitchen."

"Yeah ..." said Pumbaa, frowning. "You know, I think that's the last time I saw her, too ... she must be hiding upstairs somewhere."

"She couldn't have left, could she?" I said. "I mean, when you said _"out"_ , maybe she thought you meant get out of the house?" (It would be a few months until I learnt that I was right about this, but we'll get to that.)

"No, no, house-elves can't leave unless they're given clothes. They're tied to their families' house," said Pumbaa.

"They can leave the house if they really want to," I contradicted him. "Dokey did, she left the Maltys' to give me warnings three years ago. She had to punish herself for it afterwards, but she still managed it."

Pumbaa looked slightly disconcerted for a moment, then said, "I'll look for her later, I expect she's upstairs crying her eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something. Of course, she might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died ... but I mustn't get my hopes up."

Chris, Chrissie, Tanya and Geri laughed; Sian, however, looked reproachful.

Once we had eaten our Christmas lunch, the Dawsons, Tanya, Geri and I planned to pay Mr Dawson another visit, accompanied by Crazy-Head and Meers this time. Joey bought his two cars again for us to use. Sam, Grandmother Sarabi, Meers, Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Merida, Dave and I took one car, and Crazy-Head, Beth, Kestrel, Joe, Jack, Ben, Tanya and Geri took the other car with Joey driving.

The journey to St Mungo's was quite quick that day, seeing as there was very little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches and wizards crept furtively up the otherwise deserted street to visit the hospital. The others and myself got out of the cars, and Joey and his friend drove them around the corner, where Joey said he would wait for us. We strolled towards the window where the dummy in green nylon stood, then, one by one, we stepped through the glass.

The reception area looked pleasantly festive: the crystal orbs that decorated St Mungo's had been coloured red and gold to become gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles; holly hung around every doorway; and shining white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, each one topped with a gleaming gold star. It was less crowded than last time we had been there, although halfway across the room I found myself shunted aside by a wizard with a tangerine jammed up his right nostril.

"Family argument, eh?" smirked the blond wizard behind the desk. "You're the fourth I've seen today ... Spell Damage, fourth floor."

We found Mr Dawson propped up in bed with the remains of his turkey dinner on a tray in his lap and a rather sheepish expression on his face - that was until his eyes found Sian. To be honest, I don't know who looked happier to see the other, but what I do know is that barely a second after their eyes met, Sian ran to her father and embraced him in a warm, loving hug.

"Everything all right, Matt?" asked Grandmother Sarabi, after the rest of us had greeted him and handed him our presents.

"Fine, fine," said Mr Dawson, a little too heartily. "You - er - haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," said Grandmother Sarabi suspiciously, "why?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Mr Dawson airily, starting to unwrap his gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, _Kiara_ \- this is absolutely _wonderful_!" For he had just opened my gift of fuse-wire and screwdrivers.

I don't know how Grandmother Sarabi looked, but I do know that Sian did not seem satisfied with her father's answer; as he leaned over to hug me, Sian peered at the bandages under his nightshirt.

"Dad," she said curiously, "why have they changed your bandages? Sarabi told me that you were meant to have your bandages changed tomorrow, so why have you had them changed a day early?"

"What?" said Mr Dawson, looking rather nervous as he pulled the bed covers higher up his chest. "No, no - it's nothing - it's - I - "

He seemed to deflate under Sian's piercing gaze.

"Well - now don't get upset, Sian, but Anna Pyke had an idea ... she's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely woman and very interested in ... um ... complimentary medicine ... I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies ... well, they're called _stitches_ , Sian, and they work very well on - on Muggle wounds - "

As he said this, Sian pulled out her phone and started texting, her eyes expressionless, which could only mean nothing good, which the others quickly picked up on: Meers strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and looked rather wistfully at our group who were crowded around Mr Dawson's bed; Sam muttered something about getting herself a cup of tea and Tanya, Geri, Beth, Kestrel, Merida, Joe, Jack, Ben and Dave leapt up to accompany her.

Sian took no notice of those who left, and when she had finished texting, she gazed at her father coldly for a few moments before Mr Dawson's phone rang. With trembling hands, he picked it up and seeing who was calling, he looked at Sian, shocked.

"You might as well answer it, Dad," said Sian coolly. "You know as well as I do that she won't stop calling until you answer."

Mr Dawson nodded anxiously, answered his phone and put it to his ear. "H-h-hello, S-Susan, dear."

"Don't you "Hello, Susan dear " me, Matthew Ronald Dawson!" Crighton shouted, so loud that Mr Dawson had to move the phone away from his ear. "I just received a rather interesting text from our dear eldest child! Have you been messing about with Muggle remedies at all?"

"Not messing about, Susan," said Mr Dawson imploringly, "it was just - just something Pyke and I thought would try - only, most unfortunately - it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped - "

 _"Meaning?"_

"Well ... well, I don't know whether you know what - what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," said Crighton loudly, "but even you, Matthew Dawson, wouldn't be _that_ stupid - "

"I fancy a cup of tea, too," I said, jumping to my feet.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie almost sprinted to the door with me. As it swung closed behind us, we heard Crighton shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

"Wow, even when she's on the end of the phone, Ma still sounds scary," said Chrissie. She then turned to Sian and asked her, "Why did you tell on Dad to Ma, anyway?"

"In my defence, Ma was going to find out anyway. You know what she's like," was all Sian said about it, and seeing as none of us could think of an argument to counter this statement, we let it drop.

"Typical Dad," said Chris, shaking his head as we set off up the corridor. "Stitches ... I ask you ..."

"Well, you know, they do work on non-magical wounds," said Sian fairly. "I suppose something in that snake's venom dissolves them or something. I wonder where the tearoom is?"

"Fifth floor," I said, remembering the sign over the welcome wizard's desk.

We walked along the corridor, through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As we climbed it, the various Healers called out to us, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Chrissie was seriously affronted when a medieval witch called out that she clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.

"And what's that supposed to be?" she asked angrily, as the Healer pursued her through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young mistress, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now - "

"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Chrissie, her cheeks flushing.

" - the only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight around your throat, stand naked at the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes - "

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young mistress - "

"They're freckles!" said Chrissie furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"

She rounded on Chris, Sian and I, as we struggled to keep our faces determinedly straight.

"What floor's this?"

"I think it's the fifth," said Sian.

"No, it's the fourth," I said, "one more - "

But as I stepped on to the landing, I came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE. A woman was peering out at us all, a woman I had not seen for three years had her nose pinned against the glass. She had wavy blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth.

"Blimey," said Chrissie, who was also staring at the woman.

"Ah, jeeze," moaned Sian.

"My God!" breathed Chris. "Professor Gold!"

Our ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved towards us, wearing a long lilac dressing-gown.

"Well, hello there!" she said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, wouldn't you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has she?" I muttered to Chris, who stopped staring at Gold and looked at me, dazed. It took him a few seconds for Chris to register what I had said to him, but when he finally got it, he grinned at me.

"Er - how are you, Professor Gold?" said Chrissie, sounding slightly guilty. For those of you who can't recall what happened, Chrissie's malfunctioning wand had damaged Professor Gold's memory so badly that she had landed in St Mungo's hospital in the first place, though as Gold had been attempting to permanently wipe mine, Chris and Chrissie's memories at the time, my sympathy was very limited.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Gold exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from her pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er - we don't want any at the moment, thanks," said Chrissie, raising her eyebrows at me, and I asked, "Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?"

The smile faded slowly from Gold's face. For a few moments she gazed intently at me, then she said, "Haven't we met?"

"Er ... yeah, we have," I said. "You used to teach us at Dragon Mort, remember?"

"Teach?" repeated Gold, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?"

And then the smile reappeared on her face so suddenly it was rather alarming.

"Taught you everything I know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen; you can give them to your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

But then a head poked out of a door at the end of the corridor and a voice called, "Giselle, you naughty girl, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly-looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at the others and myself.

"Oh, Giselle, you've got visitors! How _lovely_ , and on Christmas Day, too! Do you know, she _never_ gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, she's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Giselle told the Healer with another glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to her," said the Healer, taking Giselle's arm and beaming fondly at her as she were a precious two-year-old. "She was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that her memory might be starting to come back. Will you step this way? She's in a closed ward, you know, she must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked ... not that she's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "she's a bit of a danger to herself, bless her ... doesn't know who she is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back ... it _is_ nice of you to have to come and see her."

"Er," said Chrissie, gesturing uselessly at the floor above, "actually, we were just - er - "

But the Healer smiled expectantly at us, and Chrissie feeble mutter of "going to have a cup of tea" trailed away into nothingness. We looked at each other hopelessly, then followed Gold and her Healer along the corridor.

"Let's not stay long," Chrissie said quietly.

The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the Janus Thickey Ward and muttered, _"Alohomora."_ The door swung open and she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Giselle's arm until she had settled her into an armchair beside her bed.

"This is our long-term resident's ward," she informed Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I in a low voice. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement. Giselle does seem to be getting back some sense of herself - as does Gilderoy over there, who is much like Giselle here; and we've seen a real improvement in Miss Bass, she seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though she isn't speaking any language we recognise yet. Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents. I'll leave you all to chat."

I looked around. The ward bore unmistakeable signs of being a permanent home to residents. They had many more personal effects around their beds than in Mr Dawson's ward; the wall around Giselle's headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of herself, all beaming toothily and waving at the new arrivals. She had autographed many of them herself in disjointed, childish writing, as had the wizard next to her, who was the male version of Giselle Gold by the looks of it, and he also had a lilac robe and was looking at us with great interest, but we're not here to talk about him. Anyway, the moment she had been deposited in her chair by the Healer, Giselle pulled a fresh stack of photographs towards her, seized a quill and started signing them all feverishly.

"You can put them in envelopes," she said to Chris, throwing the signed pictures into his lap one by one as she finished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail ... Gordon Goodyear writes _weekly_ ... I just wish I knew _why_ ..." She paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to her signing with renewed vigour. "I suppose it is simply my good looks ..."

"Urgh, hand me a barf bag, somebody," Sian muttered in a low voice, making fake vomiting noises; Chris, Chrissie and I giggled, but fortunately, Giselle was too consumed in her autographs to notice.

A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking witch lay in the bed opposite staring at the ceiling; she was mumbling to herself and seemed quite unaware of anything around her. Two beds along was a man and a woman lying next to each other, both of them had their heads covered in fur; I remembered something similar happening to Chris in our second year, although fortunately the damage, in his case, had not been permanent. At the far end of the ward two sets of flowery curtains had been drawn around two separate sets of beds to give the occupants and their visitors some privacy.

"Here you are, Anton ... and you, Agnes," said the Healer brightly to the furry-faced man and woman, handing them each a small pile of Christmas presents. "See, neither of you are forgotten, are you? Oh, and your son, Agnes, and your daughter, Anton, have both sent an owl to say that they'll be visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?"

Agnes and Anton both gave several loud barks.

"And look, Briana, you've been sent a pot plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy Hippogriff for each month; they'll brighten things up, won't they?" said the Healer, bustling along to the mumbling woman, setting a rather ugly pot plant with long, swaying tentacles on the bedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with her wand. "And - oh, Mr Goldberg, are you leaving already?"

My head spun round. The curtains on the left-hand side had been drawn back from two of the four beds at the end of the ward and two visitors were walking back down the aisle between the two beds: a formidable-looking old wizard dressed in a blue suit, a white shirt, black tie, a fedora on his head and, trailing behind him, looking thoroughly depressed - _Nikita_.

With a sudden rush of understanding, I realised who two of the four people in two of the end beds must be. I cast around wildly for some means of distracting the others so that Nikita could leave the ward unnoticed and unquestioned, but Chrissie had also looked round - for some reason - at the name "Goldberg", and before I could stop her, she had called out, _"Nikita!"_

Nikita jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed her.

"It's us, Nikita!" said Chrissie brightly, getting to her feet. "Have you seen - ? Gold's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Nikita, my dear?" said Nikita's father graciously, bearing down upon us all.

Nikita looked as though she would rather be anywhere in the world but there. A dull purple flush was creeping up her plump face and she didn't make eye contact with any of us.

"Ah, yes," said her grandfather, looking closely at me and sticking out a shrivelled, clawlike hand for me to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Nikita speaks most highly of you."

"Er - thanks," I said, shaking hands. Nikita did not look at me, but surveyed her own feet, the colour deepening in her face all the while.

"And you three are clearly part of the Dawson Clan - yes, I know you're their adopted son, young man," Mr Goldberg continued, smiling slightly at the shocked look on Chris' face as he shook his hand. "Yes, I know your parents - particularly your mother - fine people, very fine indeed ... and you must be the Eldest Dawson Girl?"

"Yes, sir, I am," said Sian, shaking hands with him.

"I thought so. You look just like your mother, you know, and Nikita's told me all about you. Helped her out of a few sticky situations, haven't you? She's a good girl," he said, casting a sternly approving look down his rather bony nose at Nikita, "but she hasn't got her mother's talent, I'm afraid to say." And he jerked his head in the direction of the two beds behind the pair of curtains that they had just come out of at the end of the ward.

"What?" said Chrissie, looking amazed. (I wanted to stamp on Chrissie's foot, but that sort of thing is much harder to bring off unnoticed when you're wearing jeans rather than robes.) "Is that your dad down the end, Nikita?"

"What's this?" said Mr Goldberg sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Nikita?"

Nikita took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. I could not remember ever feeling sorrier for anyone before that point, but I could not think of any way of helping Nikita out of the situation.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mr Goldberg angrily. "You should be _proud_ , Nikita, _proud_! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only daughter would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," said Nikita, very faintly, still looking anywhere but at myself and the others. Chrissie was stood on tiptoe, trying to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it, my girl!" said Mr Goldberg. "My daughter and her husband," he said, turning haughtily to Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I, "were tortured into insanity by She-You-Know's followers."

Chris looked shocked, the blood drained from Sian's face, and Chrissie stopped craning her head to catch a glimpse of Nikita's parents, looking mortified.

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the wizarding community," Mr Goldberg went on. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I - yes, Alex, what is it?"

Nikita's father had come edging down the ward in his pyjamas. He no longer had the plump, happy-looking face I had seen in Grumpy's old photograph of the original Order of the Centaur. His face was thin and worn now, his eyes seemed overlarge and his hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. He did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps he was unable to (I think it was the latter), but he made timid motions towards Nikita, holding something in his outstretched hand.

"Again?" said Mr Goldberg, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alex, very well - Nikita, take it, whatever it is."

But Nikita had already stretched out her hand, into which her father dropped an empty Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper.

"Very nice, son," said Nikita's grandfather in a falsely cheery voice, patting his son-in-law on the shoulder.

"But Nikita said quietly, "Thanks, Dad."

Her father tottered away, back up the ward, humming to himself. Nikita looked around at us, her expression defiant, as though daring us to laugh, but I did not think I'd ever found anything less funny in my life.

"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mr Goldberg, drawing on thick black leather gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Nikita, put that wrapper in the bin, he must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now."

But as they left, I was sure I saw Nikita slip the sweet wrapper into her pocket.

The door closed behind them.

"I never knew," said Chris slowly.

"Nor I," said Sian, who looked close to tears.

"Me, neither," said Chrissie hoarsely.

They all looked at me.

"I did," I said glumly. "Your mother told me but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone ... that's what Katalina Outsider got sent to Azkaban for (along with some other charge), using the Cruciatus Curse on Nikita's parents until they lost their minds."

I heard a gasp beside me. I turned and saw that Sian did not look tearful any more. I was sure I saw a flash of fear cross her eyes, before her expression quickly became a mixture of shock and outrage.

"Katalina Outsider ... did that?" whispered Sian, horrified. "That woman ... Kleaner's got a photo of ... in her den?"

Sian then looked so angry and horrified that she had to pace in order to relieve some of the anger. I was confused by her strong reaction, and as I turned to Chris and Chrissie, I saw that they had scared and worried looks on their faces, but when they saw me looking at them, they quickly replaced their worried looks with smiles, trying to tell me that there was nothing to worry about. I had been with them long enough to know better than to ask, but that did not stop me from thinking: why was Sian acting this way? What was she hiding? What had happened in her past that was so bad that it made her act like this? Of course I would get all the answers to these questions, but that wasn't until the Great Battle of Dragon Mort (sorry, dear readers).

There was a long silence, which was broken by Gold's angry voice.

"Look, I didn't learn joined-up handwriting for nothing, you know!"

Before I move on with my story, I just have to say that we took the autographs from Giselle with smiles on our faces, but as soon as we got back to Pumbaa's house, we destroyed them all - even Chris did! I'm not sure Gold knew or if she remembered, for I'm afraid to say that the damage done to her memory was so great that she is still in St Mungo's to this day, and I'm pretty sure she'll stay there for the rest of her days; and from this point on, Giselle Gold will no longer be mentioned in this story. And with that said, let's move on to the next chapter, shall we?

 **AN: I hope that you've all had a very Happy New Year, and seeing as the Christmas holidays are over and done with for another year (boo!), it's back to business as usual.**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

 **Occlumency**

 **KIARA**

Kleaner, it transpired, had been lurking in the attic. Pumbaa had found her lurking up there, covered in dust, no doubt looking for more relics of the Warts family to hide in her cupboard. Though Pumbaa seemed satisfied with this story, it made me uneasy. Kleaner seemed to be in a better mood on her reappearance, her bitter muttering had subsided somewhat and she submitted to orders more docilely than usual, though once or twice I would catch the house-elf staring at me avidly, but she always looked quickly away whenever she saw that I had noticed.

I did not mention my vague suspicions to Pumbaa or my parents, whose cheerfulness was evaporating fast now that Christmas was over, my mother's in particular. As the date of our departure back to Dragon Mort drew nearer, she became more and more prone to what Grandmother Sarabi called "fits of the sullens", in which she would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Noelani's room for hours at a time, pulling my father with her, much as he protested. Her gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of us became infected by it.

I didn't want to leave my parents alone with only Pumbaa and Kleaner for company; in fact, for the first - and only - time in my life, I was not looking forward to returning to Dragon Mort. Going back to school would mean placing myself once again under the tyranny of Democritus Umber, who had no doubt managed to force through another dozen decrees in our absence; there was no Quidditch to look forward to, seeing as I had been banned; there was every likelihood that our mountain of homework would increase as the exams drew ever nearer; and Crighton remained as remote as ever. In fact, if it hadn't been for the CA, I thought I might have gone to my parents and begged them to let me leave Dragon Mort, which would have been impossible, anyway, for not only did I know that deep down they both cared a lot about my education, but I also knew that Grandmother Sarabi would have her say in the matter, too.

Then, on the very last day of the holidays, something happened that made me positively dread my return to school.

"Kiara, dear," said Grandmother Sarabi, poking her head into mine and Chrissie's bedroom, where the pair of us were playing wizard chess, which was being watched by Chris, Sian and Lucifer, "could you come down to the kitchen for a moment? Professor Triphorm would like a word with you."

I did not immediately register what she had said; one of my castles was engaged in a violent tussle with a pawn of Chrissie's and I was egging it on enthusiastically.

"Squash him - _squash him_ , he's only a pawn, you idiot. Sorry, Grandmother, what did you say?"

"Professor Triphorm, sweetie. In the kitchen. She'd like a word."

My mouth fell open in horror. I looked around at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, all of whom were gaping back at me. Lucifer, whom Sian had been restraining with difficulty for the past quarter of an hour, leapt gleefully on to the board and set the pieces running for cover, squeaking at the tops of their voices.

"Triphorm?" I said blankly.

" _Professor_ Triphorm, sweetie," said Grandmother Sarabi reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, she says she can't stay long."

"What's she want with you?" said Chris, looking unnerved as Grandmother Sarabi left the room. "You haven't done anything, have you?"

"No!" I said indignantly, racking my brain to think what I could have done that would make Triphorm pursue me to Pumbaa's house. I wondered if my last piece of homework had perhaps been graded a "T"?

A minute or two later, I pushed open the kitchen door to find my mother and Triphorm seated at the long kitchen table, glaring in opposite directions, with my father standing behind my mother, his hands on her shoulders, glaring at the back of Triphorm's head. A letter lay open on the table in front of my parents.

"Er," I said, to announce my presence.

Triphorm looked around at me, her face framed between curtains of greasy fiery-red hair.

"Sit down, Pride-Lander."

Mum leaned back on her rear chair legs, glaring at the ceiling; my father smiled slightly at me as I sat down beside Mum, facing Triphorm across the table.

"I was supposed to see you alone, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm, the familiar sneer curling her mouth, "but your parents - "

"Exactly, we're her parents," said Mum loudly, "which means we have every right to be where our daughter's concerned!"

"I am here on Crighton's orders," said Triphorm, whose voice, by contrast, became more and more quietly waspish, "but by all means, you and your husband can stay; I know how you both like to feel ... involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Mum, her chair falling back on to all four legs with a bang, shocking my father, whose hands were still on her shoulders.

"Merely that I am sure you both must feel - ah - frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing _useful_ ," Triphorm laid a delicate stress on the word, "for the Order."

My parents' faces were flushed and they both glared at Triphorm. Triphorm's lip curled as she turned back to me.

"The Headmistress has sent me to tell you, Pride-Lander, that it is her wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?" I said blankly.

Triphorm's sneer became more pronounced.

"Occlumency, Pride-Lander. The magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

My heart began to pump very fast indeed. Defence against external penetration? But I was not being possessed, we had all agreed on that ...

"Why do I have to study Occlu - thing?" I blurted out.

"Because the Headmistress think it a good idea," said Triphorm smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Democritus Umber. You understand?"

"Yes," I said. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Triphrom raised an eyebrow.

"I am," she said.

All I could think was: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I had the horrible sensation that my insides were melting. Extra lessons with Triphorm - what on earth had I done to deserve such a punishment? I looked round at my parents for support, who looked just as shocked and horrified as I did at this news.

"Why is it you that has to teach our daughter, and not Crighton?" asked my father calmly.

"I suppose because it is a headmistress' privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," said Triphorm silkily. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." She got to her feet. "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Pride-Lander. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."

She turned to leave, her black travelling cloak billowing behind her.

"Wait a moment," said my father, coming to stand beside me.

Triphorm turned back to face us, sneering, looking at my father properly for the first time, and I saw, once again, the hurt that quickly flashed across her eyes.

"I am in rather a hurry, Pride-Lander. Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

"I'll get straight to the point, then," said my father, placing a hand on my shoulder. He and my mother were both taller than Triphorm who, I noticed, balled her fist in the pocket of her cloak over what I was sure was the handle of her wand. "If myself or Nala hear you're using these Occlumenct lessons to give Kiara a hard time, you'll have us to answer to."

"How very touching," Triphorm sneered. "Standing up for your fifteen-year-old daughter. Tell me, _Nala_ , you know your daughter's a lot like you, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" said Mum proudly.

"Well, then, you'll know she's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off her," said Triphorm sleekly.

My mother pushed her chair roughly aside as she stood up and strode around the table towards Triphorm, pulling out her wand as she went. Triphorm whipped out her own. They were squaring up to each other, my mother looking livid, Triphorm calculating, her eyes darting from my mother's wand to her face. My father and I spoke in loud voices at the same time.

"Nala!"

"Mum!"

My father rushed forwards and put my arms around my mother, trying to pull her away, but she struggled against him, as I moved to stand in between my mother and Triphorm.

"I've warned you, _Tripe_ ," said Mum, struggling in my father's arms, "I don't care if Crighton thinks you've reformed, I know better - "

"Oh, why don't you tell her so?" whispered Triphorm. "Or are you afraid she might not take very seriously the advice of a woman who has been hiding with her husband in her friend's mother's house for six months?"

"Tell me, how is Narissa Malty these days? I expect she's delighted her lapdog's working at Dragon Mort, isn't she?"

"Speaking of dogs," said Triphorm softly, "did you know that Narissa Malty recognised you and your husband the last time you both risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Pride-Landers, getting yourselves seen in a safe submarine dockyard ... gave you both a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Mum raised her wand.

"NO!" I yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them. "Mum, don't!"

"Listen to her, Nala!" said my father, trying to restrain her. "She's not worth it!"

"Are you calling us cowards?" Mum roared, trying to push me out of the way, as well as release herself from my father's grasp, but we both did not budge.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Triphorm.

"Simba - let - go - of - me! Kiara - get - out - of - it!" Mum snarled, still struggling in my father's arms and trying to push me out of the way with her free hand.

The kitchen door opened and the entire Dawson family, plus Tanya, Geri and Grandmother Sarabi, came inside, with Mr Dawson walking proudly in their midst, dressed in a pair of pyjamas, covered by a mackintosh.

"Cured!" he announced brightly to the kitchen at large. "Completely cured!"

He and all the Dawsons, Tanya, Geri and Grandmother Sarabi froze on the threshold, gazing at the scene in front of them, which was also suspended in mid-action: both Mum and Triphorm were looking towards the door with their wands pointing into each other's faces, my father holding my now still mother, and I standing immobile between my mother and Triphorm, a hand stretched out to each, trying to force them apart.

"Merlin's beard," said Mr Dawson, the smile sliding off his face, "what's going on here?"

My mother and Triphorm both lowered their wands, and my father slowly let go of my mother. I looked from her to Triphorm. Each wore an expression of utmost contempt, yet the unexpected entrance of so many witnesses seemed to have brought them to their senses. Triphorm pocketed her wand, turned on her heel and swept back across the kitchen, passing the Dawson party without comment. At the door she looked back at me.

"Six o'clock, Monday evening, Pride-Lander."

And she was gone. Mum glared after her, her wand at her side.

"What has been going on here?" asked Grandmother Sarabi, looking concerned.

"Nothing, Sarabi," said Mum, who was breathing heavily as though she had just run a long distance. "Just a friendly little chat between old school friends." With what looked like an enormous effort, she smiled. "So ... you're cured? That's great news, really great."

"Yes, it is," said my father, who smiled warmly at Mr Dawson, going up to him and shaking his hand. "Good to see you back on your feet, Matt."

"Thank you, Simba," said Mr Dawson, shaking my father's hand. When the two men let go of each other, Sian led her father to a chair.

"Yes, it is indeed good to have him back," she said, looking happily at her father. "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and my father's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven't you, Dad_?" she added, rather menacingly.

"Yes, Sian, dear," said Mr Dawson meekly.

That night's meal should have been a cheerful one, with Mr Dawson back amongst us. I could tell my parents - again, my mother in particular - were trying to make it so, yet when my mother was not forcing herself to laugh loudly at Tanya and Geri's jokes or offering us all food, her face fell into a moody, brooding expression. My father, in comparison, was talking with everyone, trying to make the evening as joyful as possible for us. I was separated from them by Mona and Crazy-Head, who had dropped in to offer Mr Dawson their congratulations. I wanted to talk to my mother, to tell her she shouldn't have listened to a word Triphorm said, that Triphorm was goading her deliberately and that the rest of us didn't think her or my father were cowards for doing as Crighton told them and remaining in Pumbaa's house. But I had no opportunity to do so, and, eyeing the ugly look on my mother's face, I wondered occasionally whether I would have dared to mention it even if I had the chance. Instead, I told Chris, Sian and Chrissie under my voice about having to take Occlumency lessons with Triphorm.

"Ma wants you to stop having nightmares about Zira," said Sian at once. "Well, you won't be sorry not to have them any more, will you?"

"Extra lessons with Triphorm?" said Chrissie, sounding aghast. "I'd rather have the nightmares!"

"I'm sorry to have to say this, S.D., but even I'm with Chrissie on this one," said Chris, looking as aghast as Chrissie.

We were to return to Dragon Mort the following day in the cars that Joey and his friend used, escorted once again by Todd and Meers, both of whom were eating breakfast in the kitchen when Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I came down the following morning. The adults seemed to have been mid-way through a whispered conversation when I opened the door; all of them looked round and hastily fell silent.

After a hurried breakfast, we all pulled on jackets and scarves against the chilly grey January morning. I had an unpleasant constricted feeling in my chest; I did not want to say goodbye to my parents. I had a bad feeing about this parting; I didn't know when we would next see each other and I felt it was incumbent upon me to say something to my mother to stop her from doing anything stupid - I was worried that Triphorm's accusation of her and my father had stung my mother so badly that she might have been planning some foolhardy trip beyond Pumbaa's house. Before I could think of what to say, however, my mother gave a look to Pumbaa, and he pulled me aside.

"I want you to take this," Pumbaa said quietly, thrusting a badly wrapped package roughly the size of a paperback book into my hands.

"What is it?" I asked.

"A way of letting your mum know if Triphorm's giving you a hard time. Me and your mum were discussing it last night, and we agreed that this was the best way you could talk back to her without the dangers of owl post. No, don't open it here!" said Pumbaa, with a wary look at Grandmother Sarabi, who was trying to persuade the twins to wear hand-knitted mittens. "I doubt Sarabi would approve - but your mum wants you to use it if you need her, all right, Kiara?"

"OK," I said, stowing the package away in the inside pocket of my jacket, but I knew I would never use it whatever it was. I would not be responsible for luring my mother from her place of safety, no matter how foully Triphorm treated me in our forthcoming Occlumency lessons.

"Let's go, then," said Pumbaa, clapping me on the shoulder and smiling grimly, before he turned around to my mother and gave her a small wink, to which she nodded her head and smiled widely. Before I could say anything else, we were heading upstairs, stopping before the heavily chained and bolted front door, surrounded by the Dawsons, Grandmother Sarabi and my father.

"Goodbye, sweetie, take care," said Grandmother Sarabi, hugging me.

"See you, Kiara, and keep an eye out for snakes for me!" said Mr Dawson genially, also hugging me.

"See you soon, kid," said Pumbaa, shaking my hand.

"Right - yeah," I said distractedly; it was my last chance to tell my mother to be careful; I turned, looked into my mother's face and opened my mouth to speak, but before I could do so, Mum pulled me into a loving hug and said, "Look after yourself, my darling. I love you." She then kissed my head and pulled back, smiling. I tried to smile as best I could at her.

"We both do," said my father beside her, beaming at me. I let go of Mum and flung my arms around his neck, putting as much love into it as I could. When I pulled away, I said, "I love you both."

"We know," said my father simply, and the next thing I knew, I found myself being shunted out into the icy winter air, with Todd (who had raven black hair, and wore black jeans, a purple blouse and a black leather jacket with cargo boots) chivvying me down the steps.

The door of Pumbaa's house slammed shut behind us. We followed Meers down the front steps. As we headed down the drive to where the cars were parked, I looked round; Pumbaa's house was splitting its trees up rapidly, so that it looked like a normal clump of trees in the middle of the woods again.

"Come on, the quicker we get in these cars, the better," said Todd, and I thought there was nervousness in her voice.

Joey and his friend were standing by the cars, and had the doors open for us all to get in. In Joey's car were Meers, Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Dave, Merida, Tanya and myself, and Beth, Kestrel, Joe, Jack, Ben and Geri went with Todd in the other car. As soon as we were all inside with our luggage in the back, we buckled up and were off.

We didn't drive that day; as soon as we could, Joey changed the mode from driving to flying. The change was immediate: wings came out from under the doors of the car, the wheels were brought in under the car, and the engine was changed to suit it; even the wheel had changed to a joy stick. The car behind us soon followed suit and we were quickly in the air. There was plenty of cloud cover for our benefit, so we had no trouble with any Muggles seeing us; the only trouble was we had to put the headlights on, but we stayed high above the ground in the safety of the clouds.

We were in the air for a couple of hours, listening to the radio, and singing along with the songs when we could (I know Meers said we were annoying him and giving him a headache, but I'm pretty sure he had a small smile on his face). This carried on until we started descending towards the crowd, which could only mean that we were near Dragon Mort, and I was right, for we landed in Dragsmede, which was covered in snow. I caught a glimpse of the Dragon's Eye down its side street, the large reptilian eye wooden sign creaking in the wintry wind. Flecks of snow hit the window at the front of the car. At last we rolled to a halt outside of Dragon Mort.

Meers, Todd, Joey and Joey's friend helped us out of the car and with our luggage, then, once we all had our luggage, Meers and Todd said goodbye to us, as Joey's friend got in the other car and drove off; Meers and Todd would be going back with Joey.

"You'll be safe once you're in the grounds," said Todd, casting a careful look around at the deserted road. "Have a good term, OK?"

"Look after yourselves," said Meers, shaking our hands all round and reaching me last. "And listen ..." he lowered his voice while the others exchanged last-minute goodbyes with Todd, "Kiara, I know you don't like Triphorm, but she is a superb Occlumens and we all - your parents included - want you to learn to protect yourself, so work hard, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," I said heavily, looking up into Meers' prematurely lined face. "See you, then."

The thirteen of us struggled up the slippery drive towards the castle, dragging our trunks. Sian was already talking about knitting a few elf hats before bedtime. I looked back when we had reached the oaken front doors; Joey's car was already ascending back into the clouds and I half-wished, given what was coming the following evening, that I was still in it.

0000

I spent most of Monday dreading the evening. I couldn't concentrate properly during Muggle Studies, for I was too busy dreading of being in Triphorm's presence that night. To make matters worse, my mood was further lowered by the members of the CA constantly approaching me in the corridors between classes, asking hopefully if there would be a meeting that night.

"I'll let you know in the usual way when the next one is," I said over and over again, "but I can do it tonight, I've got to go to - er - remedial Potions."

"You take _remedial Potions_?" said Zhi Smith superciliously, having cornered me in the Entrance Hall after lunch. "Good Lord, you must be terrible. Triphorm doesn't usually give extra lessons, does she?"

As Smith strode away in an annoyingly buoyant fashion, Chrissie glared after her.

"Shall I jinx her? I can still get her from here," she said, raising her wand and taking aim between Smith's shoulder blades.

"Forget it," I said dismally. "It's what everyone's going to think, isn't it? That I'm really stup - "

"Hi, Kiara," said a voice behind me. I turned round and found Khan standing there.

"Oh," I said, as the unfamiliar feeling of many butterflies went off in my stomach. "Hi."

"We'll be in the library, Kiara," said Sian firmly as she seized Chrissie above the elbow and dragged her off towards the marble staircase; Chris looked at Khan through narrowed eyes for a moment, before he turned and marched off up the stairs after Sian and Chrissie.

"Had a good Christmas?" asked Khan.

"Yeah, not bad," I said, shrugging. "Yours?"

"Mine was pretty quiet," said Khan. For some reason her looked nervous. "Erm ... listen ... there's another Dragsmede trip next month, did you see the notice?"

"What? Oh, no, I haven't checked the noticeboard since I got back."

"Yes, it's on Valentine's Day ..."

"Right," I said, wondering why he was telling me this. "Well, I suppose you want to - ?"

"Only if you do," he said eagerly.

I stared. I had been about to say, "I suppose you want to know when the next CA meeting is?" but his response did not seem to fit.

"I - er - " I said.

"Oh, it's OK if you don't," he said, looking mortified. "Don't worry. I - I just thought ... well, I'll see you around, Kiara."

He walked away. I stood there, staring after him, my brain working frantically. Then something clicked into place (am I dim-witted or what? Seriously, what girl doesn't know when a guy is asking her out on a date?) ...

"Khan! Hey - KHAN!"

I ran after him, catching him halfway up the marble staircase.

"Er - d'you want to go into Dragsmede with me on Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah, I'd love to," he said, his face flushing, smiling shyly at me.

"Right ... well ... that's settled, then," I said, and feeling that the day was not going to be a complete loss after all, I virtually bounced off to the library to pick up Chris, Sian and Chrissie before our afternoon lessons.

By six o'clock that evening, however, even the glow of having successfully made plans to go on a date with Khan Chan could not lighten the ominous feelings that intensified with every step I took towards Triphorm's office.

I paused outside the door when I reached it, wishing I were almost anywhere else, then, taking a deep breath, I knocked and entered.

The shadowy room was lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in variously coloured potions. In one corner stood the cupboard that Triphorm had once accuse me - not within reason - of stealing. My attention was drawn towards the desk, however, where a shallow stone basin engraved with runes and symbols lay in a pool of candlelight. I recognised it at once - it was Crighton's Pensieve. Wondering what on earth it was doing there, I jumped when Triphorm's cold voice came out of the shadows.

"Shut the door behind you, Pride-Lander."

I did as I was told, with the terrible feeling that I was imprisoning myself. When I turned back into the room, Triphorm had moved into the light and was pointing silently at the chair opposite her desk. I sat down and so did Triphorm, her cold ice-blue eyes fixed unblinkingly upon me, dislike etched in every line of her face.

"Well, Pride-Lander, you know why you are here," she said. "The Headmistress has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope that you prove more adept at it than at Potions."

"Right," I said tersely.

"This may not be an ordinary class, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm, her eyes narrowed malevolently, "but I am still your teacher and you will therefore address me as "ma'am" or "Professor" at all times."

"Yes ... _ma'am_ ," I said.

Triphorm continued to survey me through narrowed eyes for a moment, then said, "Now, Occlumency. As I told you back in Warts' kitchen, this branch of magic seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."

"And why does Professor Crighton think I need it, ma'am?" I said, looking directly into Triphorm's eyes and wondering whether she would answer.

Triphorm looked back at me for a moment and then said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Pride-Lander? The Scarlet Lady is highly skilled at Legilimency - "

"What's that? _Ma'am?_ "

"It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind - "

"She can read minds?" I said quickly, my worst fears confirmed.

"You have no subtlety, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm, her icy eyes glittering. "You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker."

Triphorm paused for a moment, apparently to savour the pleasure of insulting me (which I didn't take to heart, seeing as she had been doing it ever since I started at Dragon Mort), before continuing.

"Only Muggles talk of "mind-reading". The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the insides of skulls, to be perused by any intruder. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Pride-Lander - or at least, most minds are." She smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Scarlet Lady, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to her. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so can utter falsehoods in her presence without detection."

Whatever Triphorm said, Legilimency sounded a lot like mind reading to me, and I didn't like the sound of it at all.

"So she could know what we're thinking now? Ma'am?"

"The Scarlet Lady is at a considerable distance and the walls and grounds of Dragon Mort are protected by many ancient spells and charms to ensure the bodily and mental safety of those who dwell within them," said Triphorm. "Time and space matter in magic, Pride-Lander. Eye contact is often essential to Legilimency."

"Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?"

Triphorm eyed me, tracing her mouth with one long, thin finger as she did so.

"The usual rules do not seem to apply to you, Pride-Lander. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Scarlet Lady. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable - when you are asleep, for instance - you are sharing the Scarlet Lady's thoughts and emotions. The Headmistress thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. She wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Scarlet Lady."

My heart pumped fast again. None of this added up.

"But why does Professor Crighton want it to stop?" I asked abruptly. "I don't like it much, but it's been useful, hasn't it? I mean ... I saw the snake attack Mr Dawson, and if I hadn't, Professor Crighton wouldn't have been able to save her husband, would she? Ma'am?"

Triphorm stared at me for a few moments, still tracing her mouth with her finger. When she spoke again, it was slowly and deliberately, as though she weighed every word.

"It appears that the Scarlet Lady has been unaware of the connection between you and herself until very recently. Up 'til now it seems you have been experiencing her emotions, and sharing her thoughts, without she being any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas - "

"The one with the snake and Mr Dawson?"

"Do not interrupt me, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm in a dangerous voice. "As I was saying, the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion upon the Scarlet Lady's thoughts - "

"I saw inside the snake's head, not hers!"

"I thought I just told you not to interrupt, Pride-Lander!"

But I did not care if Triphorm was angry; at last I seemed to be getting to the bottom of this business; I had moved forwards in my chair so that, without realising it, I was perched on the very edge, tensed as though poised for flight.

"How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Zira's thoughts I'm sharing?"

 _"Do not say the Scarlet Lady's name!"_ spat Triphorm.

There was a nasty silence. We glared at each other across the Pensieve.

"Professor Crighton says her name," I said quietly.

"Crighton is an extremely powerful witch," Triphorm muttered. "While _she_ may feel secure enough to say the name ... the rest of us ..." she rubbed her left forearm, apparently unconsciously, on the spot where I knew the Death Trail was burned into her skin.

"I just wanted to know," I began again, forcing my voice back to politeness, "why - "

"You seemed to have visited the snake's mind because that was where the Scarlet Lady was at that particular moment," snarled Triphorm. "She was possessing the snake at the time and so you dreamed you were inside it, too."

"And Zi - she - realised I was there?"

"It seems so," said Triphorm coolly.

"How do you know?" I said urgently. "Is this just PRofessor Crighton guessing, or - "

"I told you," said Triphorm, rigid in her chair, her eyes slits, "to call me "ma'am"."

"Yes, ma'am," I said impatiently, "but how do you know - ?"

"It is enough that we know," said Triphorm repressively. "The important point is is that the Scarlet Lady is now aware that you are gaining access to her thoughts and feelings. She has also deduced that the process is likely to work in reverse; that is to say, she has realised that she might be able to access your thoughts and feelings in return - "

"And she might try and make me do things?" I asked. _"Ma'am?"_ I added hurriedly.

"She might," said Triphorm, sounding cold and unconcerned. "Which brings us back to Occlumency."

Triphorm pulled out her wand from an inside pocket of her robes and I tensed in my chair, but Triphorm merely raised the wand to her temple and placed its tip into the greasy roots of her hair. When she withdrew it, some silvery substance came away, stretching from temple to wand like a thick gossamer strand, which broke as she pulled the wand away from it and fell gracefully into the Pensieve, where it swirled silvery-white, neither gas nor liquid. Twice more, Triphorm raised the wand to her temple and deposited the silvery substance into the stone basin, then, without offering any explanation of her behaviour, she picked up the Pensieve carefully, removed it to a shelf out of our way and returned to face me with her wand held at the ready.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Pride-Lander."

I got to my feet, feeling nervous. We faced each other with the desk between us.

"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," said Triphorm.

"And what are you going to do?" I asked, eyeing Triphorm's wand apprehensively.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," said Triphorm softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse. You will find that similar powers are needed for this ... brace yourself, now. _Legilimens!_ "

Triphorm had struck before I was ready, before I had even begun to summon any form of resistance. The office swam in front of my eyes and vanished; image after image raced through my mind like a flickering film so that it blinded me to my surroundings.

I was five, and Grandmother Sarabi was comforting me after I had had a bad fall ... I was nine, and Ripper the bulldog was chasing me up a tree and the Smiths were laughing below on the lawn ... I was sitting on the stool, looking up at the Sorting-Heads, watching the Lion- and Snake-Heads arguing over me ... Chris was lying in the hospital wing, his face covered with thick black fur ... a hundred Stingers were closing in on me beside the dark river ... Khan Chan drew nearer to me under the mistletoe ...

 _No_ , said a voice inside my head, as the memory of Khan drew nearer, _you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private_ -

I felt a sharp pain in my knee. Triphorm's office had come back into view and I realised that I had fallen to the floor; one of my knees had collided painfully with Triphorm's desk. I looked up at Triphorm, who had lowered her wand and was rubbing her wrist. There was an angry weal there like a scorch mark.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Triphorm coolly.

"No," I said bitterly, getting up from the floor.

"I thought not," said Triphorm, who was watching me closely. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Did you see everything I saw?" I asked, unsure whether I wanted to hear the answer.

"Flashes of it," said Triphorm, her lip curling. "To whom did the dog belong?"

"My uncle Mack," I muttered, hating Triphorm.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," said Triphorm, raising her wand once more. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"I'm trying," I said angrily, "but you're not telling me how!"

"Manners, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm dangerously. "Now, I want you to close your eyes."

I shot her a filthy look before I did what I was told. I did not like the idea of standing there with my eyes shut while Triphorm faced me, carrying a wand.

"Clear your mind, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm's cold voice. "Let go of all emotion ..."

But my anger at Triphorm continued to pound through my veins like venom. Let go of my anger? I could as easily detach my legs ...

"You're not doing it, Pride-Lander ... you will need more discipline than this ... focus, now ..."

I tried to empty my mind, tried not to think or remember, or feel ...

"Let's go again ... on the count of three ... one - two - three - _Legilimens_!"

A great black dragon reared in front of me ... my mother and father were emerging out of an enchanted mirror ... Georgia digs was lying on the ground with blank eyes staring at me ...

"NOOOOOOO!"

I was on my knees again, my face buried in my hands, my brain aching as though somebody had been trying to pull it from my skull.

"Get up!" said Triphorm sharply. "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort. You are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"

I stood up again, my heart thumping wildly as though I really had just seen Georgia dead in the graveyard. Triphorm looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as I was.

"I-am-making-an-effort!" I said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment," I snarled.

"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Scarlet Lady!" said Triphorm savagely. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against her powers! She will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Pride-Lander!"

"I am not weak," I said in a low voice, fury pumping through me so that I thought I might attack Triphorm in a moment.

"Then prove it! Master your emotions!" spat Triphorm. "Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! _Legilimens!_ "

Grandmother Sarabi was giving me my Dragon Mort letter on my eleventh birthday ... a hundred Stingers were drifting across the river towards me ... I was running along a windowless passage with Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson ... we drew nearer to the plain black door at the end of the corridor ... I expected to go through it ... but Mr Dawson led Grandmother Sarabi and I off to the left, down a flight of stone steps ...

"I KNOW! I KNOW!"

I was on all fours again on Triphorm's office floor, with my scar prickling unpleasantly, but the voice that had issued from my mouth was triumphant. I pushed myself up again to find Triphorm staring at me, her wand raised. It looked as though, that time, Triphorm had lifted the spell before I had even tried to fight back.

"What happened then, Pride-Lander?" she asked, eyeing me intently.

"I saw - I remembered," I panted. "I just realised ..."

"Realised what?" asked Triphorm sharply.

I did not answer at once; I savoured the moment of blinding realisation as I rubbed my forehead ...

I had been dreaming about a windowless corridor ending in a locked door for months, without once realising that it was a real place. Now, seeing the memory again, I knew that all along I had been dreaming about the corridor down which I had run with Mr Dawson and Grandmother Sarabi on the twelfth of August as we hurried to the courtrooms in the Ministry; it was the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries and Mr Dawson had been there the night that he had been attacked by Zira's snake.

I looked up at Triphorm.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?"

"What did you say?" Triphorm asked quietly, and I saw, with deep satisfaction, that Triphorm was unnerved.

"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, _ma'am_?" I said.

"And why," said Triphorm slowly, "would you ask such a thing?"

"Because," I said, watching Triphorm's face closely, "that corridor I've just seen - I've been dreaming about it for months - I've just recognised it - it leads to the Department of Mysteries ... and I think Zira wants something from - "

 _"I have told you not to say the Scarlet Lady's name!"_

We glared at each other. My scar seared again but I did not care. Triphorm looked agitated, but when she spoke again she sounded as though she was trying to appear cool and unconcerned.

"There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Pride-Lander, few of which you would understand and none of which concern you. Do I make myself plain?"

"Yes," I said, rubbing my prickling scar, which became more painful.

"I want you back here same time on Wednesday. We will continue work then."

"Fine," I said. I was desperate to get out of Triphorm's office and find Chris, Sian and Chrissie.

"You are to rid your mind of all emotion every night before sleep; empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"

"Yes," I said, barely listening.

"And be warned, Pride-Lander ... I shall know if you have not practiced ..."

"Right," I mumbled. I picked up my schoolbag, swung it over my shoulder and hurried towards the door. As I opened it, I glanced back at Triphorm, who had her back to me and was scooping her own thoughts out of the Pensieve with the tip of her wand and replaced them carefully inside her own head. I left without another word, closing the door carefully behind me, my scar still throbbing carefully.

I found Chris, Sian and Chrissie in the library, where they were working on Boggles' most recent ream of homework. Other students, nearly all of them fifth-years, sat at lamp-lit tables nearby, noses close to books, quills scratching feverishly, while the sky outside the mullioned windows grew steadily blacker. The only other sound was the slight squeaking of one of Sir Pincer's shoes, as the librarian prowled the aisles menacingly, breathing down the necks of those touching his precious books.

I remember feeling shivery; my scar still ached, and I felt almost feverish. When I sat down next to Chris, opposite Sian and Chrissie, I caught sight of myself in the window opposite; I was very white and my scar seemed to show more clearly than usual.

"How did it go?" Sian whispered, and then, looking concerned. "Are you all right, Kiara?"

"Yeah ... fine ... I dunno," I said impatiently, wincing as pain shot through my scar again. "Listen ... I've just realised something ..."

And I told them what I had seen and deduced.

"So ... so are you saying ..." whispered Chris, as Sir Pincer swept past, squeaking slightly, "that the weapon - the thing She-You-Know's after - is in the Ministry of Magic?"

"In the Department of Mysteries, it's got to be," I whispered. "I saw that door when your dad took Grandmother Sarabi and I down to the courtrooms for my hearing and it's definitely the same one he was guarding when the snake bit him.

Sian let out a long, slow sigh.

"Of course," she breathed.

"Of course what?" said Chrissie rather impatiently.

"Chrissie, think about it ... Simone Podds was trying to get through a door at the Ministry of Magic ... it must have been that one, it's too much of a coincidence!"

"How come Simone was trying to break in when she's on our side?" said Chris.

"Well, that's the only thing that doesn't make sense," Sian admitted. "That is a bit odd ..."

"So what's in the Department of Mysteries?" I asked Chrissie. "Has you dad ever mentioned anything about it?"

"I know they call the people who work in there "Unspeakables"," said Chrissie, frowning, "because no one really seems to know what they do - weird place to have a weapon."

"It's not weird at all, it makes perfect sense," said Sian. "It will be something top secret that the Ministry has been developing, I expect ... Kiara, are you sure you're all right?"

For I had just ran both my hands over my forehead as though I was trying to iron it.

"Yeah ... fine ..." I said, lowering my hands, which were trembling. "I just feel a bit ... I don't like Occlumency much."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," said Sian sympathetically. "Look, let's go back to the common room, we'll be a bit more comfortable there."

But the common room was packed and full of shrieks of laughter and excitement; Tanya and Geri were demonstrating their latest bit of joke shop merchandise.

"Hand-Transporting Gloves!" shouted Geri, as Tanya waved a pair of gloves that were decorated with a thick pink strap that stuck to the wrist at the watching students. "Two Galleons each, watch Tanya, now!"

Tanya put on the gloves. For a second her hands were there, and the next they were gone, leaving behind the pink strap. A second later, her hands appeared above her ears, and she played a weird game of peek-a-boo with the crowd.

Several girls screamed, but everyone else was roaring with laughter.

"And off again!" shouted Geri, removing the straps. Tanya's hands were removed from her head and became fixed back on her wrists again, and were moving around as normal.

"How do those gloves work, then?" said Sian, distracted from her homework and watching Tanya and Geri closely. "I mean, obviously it's some combination of Transport and Body-manipulation Spells, but it's rather clever to have extended the field of body manipulation beyond the boundaries of potion-making ... I'd imagine the charms wouldn't have a very long life though."

I did not answer; I felt ill.

"I'm going to have to do this tomorrow," I muttered, pushing the books I had just taken out of my bag back inside it.

"Well, write it in your homework planner, then!" said Sian encouragingly. "So you don't forget!"

Chris, Chrissie and I exchanged looks as I reached into my bag, withdrew the planner and opened it tentatively.

 _"Don't leave it 'til later, you big second-rater!"_ chided the book, as I scribbled down Boggles' homework. Sian beamed at it.

"I think I'll go to bed," I said, stuffing the homework planner back into my bag and making a mental note to drop it in the fire the first opportunity I got (sorry Sian, but to be fair, you never asked us what we wanted, and we never asked for homework planners).

I walked across the common room, dodging Geri, who tried to hand me a pair of Hand-Transporting Gloves, and reached the peace and cool of the stone staircase to the dormitories. I felt sick again, just as I had the night I had had the vision of the snake, but I thought that if I just lay down for a while that I would be all right.

I opened the door of my dormitory and was one step inside it when I experience pain so severe that I thought someone must have sliced open the top of my head. I did not know where I was, whether I was standing or lying down, I did not even know my own name.

Maniacal laughter rang in my ears ... I was happier than I had been in a very long time ... jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant ... a wonderful, wonderful thing had happened ...

"Kiara? KIARA?"

Someone had hit me around the face. The insane laughter was punctuated with a cry of pain. The happiness was draining out of me, but the laughter continued ...

I opened my eyes and, as I did so, I became aware that the laughter came from my own mouth. The moment I realised this, it died away; I remember lying panting on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, with the scar on my forehead throbbing horribly. Chrissie was bending over me, looking very worried.

"What happened?" she said.

"I ... dunno ..." I gasped, sitting up again. "She's really happy ... really happy ..."

"She-You-Know is?"

"Something good's happened," I mumbled. I was shaking as badly as I had done after seeing the snake attack Mr Dawson and I felt very sick. "Something she's been hoping for."

The words came, just as they had back in the Lion-Heart changing room, as though a stranger were speaking them through my mouth, yet I knew they were true. I took deep breaths, willing myself not to vomit all over Chrissie. I was very glad that the other Dawson girls were not there to watch that time.

"Sian told me to come and check on you," said Chrissie in a low voice, as she helped me to my feet. "She says your defences will be low at the moment, after Triphorm's been fiddling around with your mind ... still, I suppose it'll help in the long run, won't it?"

She looked doubtfully at me as she helped me towards my bed, but before I collapsed on it, as I so wanted to do, I remembered that I wanted to write to Grandmother Sarabi, so I stopped Chrissie, who looked at me strangely.

"Kiara, you need to - "

"I will," I said, "but I want to write to Grandmother Sarabi first."

Chrissie looked shocked.

"Kiara, you can't tell her about - "

"I'm not going to tell her about Zira being suddenly happy," I reassured her.

"Or - "

"Or the Occlumency, either."

"Well, if you're not going to write to her about those things, then what _are_ you going to write to her about?" asked Chrissie.

"Boys," I said simply.

Chrissie's dumbfounded expression then became one of clarity as she finally understood and left me to it. I reached into my bedside cabinet and pulled out a quill, ink and some parchment and began to write, the words flowing easily from my mind on to the paper. It took me a while to finish it, but when I did, this is what it said:

 _Dear Grandmother Sarabi,_

 _I know it's been over a day since I last saw you, but I feel like this is too important not to write about. You're the only one I can tell this to, because I don't know who else to write to._

 _My first day back was OK, I guess, but my head is throbbing like crazy, but that's not what I wanted to write to you about. You see, just before Christmas, a boy called Khan Chan, tall, black hair and eyes and a year above me, kissed me, and I'm happy it happened, but he used to be Georgia Diggs' boyfriend, but I think he might have still feelings for her, as well as feel guilty for "betraying" Georgia by kissing me._

 _Anyway, I'm going into Dragsmede with Khan on Valentine's Day, and I'm not really worried about how I should act around him, but I'm just worried what I should do if Georgia comes up on our date - or what if he doesn't want to talk about it? Please help me, Grandmother, for I really need your advice. Oh, and the only reason I didn't tell you this when I last saw you is because of what happened with Mr Dawson, which was far more important than my love life._

 _Right, I'm going to have to go, Grandmother, because my head's a pounding storm and I really need some rest._

 _Give my love to Grandmother Sarafina for me._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Kiara_

After I was done, I gave it to Chrissie to read, and she said that it was fine and that, seeing as the Ministry must have known Mr Dawson had an accident of some sort that I could send it off. I thanked her, folded my letter up and put it on top of my bedside table, before I got ready for bed.

When I was in my pyjamas, I slumped back on to my pillows in relief, aching all over from having fallen to the floor so often that evening, and my scar still prickled painfully. I could not help feeling that my first foray into Occlumency had weakened my mind's resistance rather than strengthening it, and I wondered with a great feeling of trepidation, what had happened to make Lady Zira the happiest she had been in fourteen years.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

 **The Beetle at Bay**

 **KIARA**

My question was answered the very next morning when, after giving my letter to Harold to send to Grandmother Sarabi, I went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. When Sian's _Daily Squabbler_ arrived, she smoothed it out, gazed for a moment at the front page and gave a yelp that caused everyone in the vicinity to stare at her.

"What?" said Chris, Chrissie and I together.

For answer she spread the newspaper on the table in front of us and pointed at ten black-and-white photographs that filled the whole of the front page, all of them witches. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

 _Antonia Dali_ , read the legend with a long, pale, twisted face who sneered up at me, _convicted of the brutal murders of Tabitha and Garbi Porter._

 _Augusta Roscoe_ , said the caption beneath a pockmarked woman with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of her picture, looking bored, _convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to She Who Must Not Be Named._

But my eyes were drawn to one witch in particular. Her face leapt out at me the moment I had seen the page. She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture, though I had seen it sleek, thick and shining. She glared up at me through heavily lidded eyes, an arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like my parents, she retained vestiges of good looks, but something - like Azkaban - had taken most of her beauty.

 _Katalina Outsider, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Fiona and Alex Bore, as well as the attempted murder of a four-year-old girl._

Sian nudged me, and I noticed that her hand was trembling. I looked up at her, and saw that she was looking at the picture of Kataline Outsider with fear in her eyes. It made me wonder why Sian was afraid of her (and boy, did it shock me when I found out, but I'm afraid you're going to have to wait until my seventh book to find out for yourselves, readers). When Sian caught me looking at her, she quickly covered up her fear and pointed at the headline over the pictures, which I, being so engrossed on Katalina's, had not yet read.

 _MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN_

 _MINISTRY FEARS PRIDE-LANDERS ARE "RALLYING POINT"_

 _FOR OLD LOVE DESTROYERS_

"Pride-Landers?" I said loudly. "Not - ?"

 _"Shhh!"_ whispered Sian desperately. "Not so loud - just read it!"

 _The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban._

 _Speaking to reporters in her private office, Cornelia Sweets, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening and that she has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals._

 _"We find ourselves, most importantly, in the exact same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderers Simba and Nala Pride-Lander, parents of deranged daughter, Kiara Pride-Lander, escaped," said Sweets last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude requires outside help, and we must remember that the Pride-Landers, the two people to escape after Lord Voldemort's followers thirteen years ago, would be ideally placed to help others follow in their footsteps. We find it likely that these individuals, who include Pumbaa Warts - an old friend of the Pride-Landers - cousin of Katalina Outsider, have rallied around the Pride-Landers as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals, and we beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."_

"There you are, Kiara," said Chrissie, looking awestruck. "That's why she was happy last night."

"I don't believe this," I snarled, "Sweets is blaming the breakout on _my parents_?"

"What other options does she have?" said Sian bitterly. "She can barely say, "Sorry, everyone, Crighton warned me this might happen, the Azkaban guards have joined Lady Zira" - Chris, Chrissie, stop whimpering - "and now Zira's worst supporters have broken out, too." I mean, she's spent the last six months telling everyone you and Ma are liars, hasn't she?"

Sian ripped open the newspaper and began to read the report inside while I looked around the Great Hall. I did not understand why my fellow students did not look scared or at least were discussing the terrible piece of news on the front page, but very few took the newspaper every day like Sian. There they all were, talking about homework and Quidditch and who knew what other rubbish (actually, looking back, I'm going to take back what I said about Quidditch, but the only reason I thought it was rubbish was because I was angry that no one else was looking at this story), when outside those walls ten more Love Destroyers had swollen Lady Zira's ranks.

I glanced up at the staff table. It was a different story there: Crighton and Professor Darbus were in deep conversation, both looking extremely grave. Spud had the _Squabbler_ propped open against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that he did not notice the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into his lap from his stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umber was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once his pouchy toad's eyes did not sweep the Great Hall on the lookout for misbehaving students. He scowled as he gulped down his food and every now and then he shot a malevolent glance up the table to where Crighton and Professor Darbus were talking so intently.

"Oh my - " said Sian wonderingly, still staring at the newspaper.

"What now?" I said quickly; I was feeling jumpy.

"It's ... _horrible_ ," said Sian, looking shaken. She folded back page ten of the newspaper and handed it to Chris, Chrissie and I.

 _TRAGIC DEMISE OF MINISTRY OF MAGIC WORKER_

 _St Mungo's Hospital promised a full inquiry last night after Ministry of Magic worker Briana Bass, 49, was discovered dead in her bed, killed by a pot plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Miss Bass, who had been injured in a workplace accident some weeks prior to her death._

 _Healer Margaret Spruce, who was in charge of Miss Bass' ward at the time of the incident, has been suspended on full pay and was unavailable for comment yesterday, but a spokeswizard for the hospital said in a statement:_

 _"St Mungo's heavily regrets the death of Miss Bass, whose health was improving steadily prior to this tragic accident._

 _"We have strict guidelines on the decorations permitted on our wards but it appears that Healer Spruce, busy over the Christmas period, overlooked the dangers of the plant on Miss Bass' bedside table. As her speech and mobility improved, Healer Spruce encouraged Miss Bass to look after the plant herself, unaware that it was not an innocent Flitterbloom, but a cutting of Devil's Snare which, when touched by the convalescent Miss Bass, throttled her instantly._

 _"St Mungo's is as yet unable to account for the presence of the plant on the ward and asks any witch or wizard with information to come forward."_

"Bass ..." said Chris. " _Bass_ _._ It rings a bell ..."

"We saw her," Sian whispered. "In St Mungo's, remember? She was in the bed opposite Gold's, just lying there, staring at the ceiling. And we saw the Devil's Snare arrive. She - the Healer - said it was a Christmas present."

I looked back at the story. A feeling of horror rose like bile in my throat.

"How come we didn't recognise the Devil's Snare? We've seen it before ... we could've stopped this from happening."

"Who expects Devil's Snare to turn up in a hospital disguised as a pot plant?" said Chrissie sharply. "It's not our fault, whoever sent it to the woman is to blame! They must be a real prat, why didn't they check what they were buying?"

"Oh, come on, Chrissie!" said Chris, looking sharply at Chrissie. "Who doesn't know when they're putting Devil's Snare in a pot that won't try to kill whoever tries to touch it?"

"Chris is right," said Sian shakily. "This - this was murder ... a clever murder, as well ... if the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?"

I was not thinking about the Devil's Snare. I was remembering taking the lift down to the ninth level of the Ministry on the day of my hearing and the sallow-faced woman who had got in on the Atrium level.

"I met Bass," I said slowly. "I saw her at the Ministry with Grandmother Sarabi and your dad."

Chrissie's mouth fell open.

"Dad told me about her at home! She was an Unspeakable - she worked in the Department of Mysteries!"

We looked at each other for a moment, then Sian pulled the newspaper towards her, closed it, glared for a moment at the pictures of the ten escaped Love Destroyers on the front, then leapt to her feet.

"Where are you going?" said Chris, startled.

"To send a letter," said Sian, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "It, well I don't know whether ... but it's worth trying ... and I'm the only one who can."

"I _hate_ it when she does that," grumbled Chrissie.

"Who doesn't?" muttered Chris, as he, Chrissie and I got up from the table and made our own, slower way out of the Great Hall. "Would it kill her to tell us what she's up to for once? It'd take her about ten more seconds - hey, Mina!"

Mina was standing beside the doors into the Entrance Hall, waiting for a crowd of Raven-Wings to pass. She was as heavily bruised as she had been on the day she had come back from her mission to the giants and there was a new cut right across the bridge of her nose.

"All righ', you three?" she said, trying to muster a smile but managing only a kind of pained grimace.

"Are you OK, Mina?" I asked, following her as she lumbered after the Raven-Wings.

"Fine, fine," said Mina, with a feeble assumption of airiness; she waved a hand and narrowly missed concussing a frightened-looking Professor Boggles, who was passing. "Jus' busy, yeh know, usual stuff - lessons ter prepare - couple o' salamander's got scale rot - an' I'm on probation," she muttered.

 _"You're on probation?"_ said Chrissie very loudly, so that many of the passing students looked around curiously. "Sorry - I mean - you're on probation?" she whispered.

"Yeah," said Mina. "'S'no more'n I expected, ter tell yeh the truth. Yeh migh' not've picked upon it, bu' that inspection didn' go too well, yeh know ... anyway," she sighed deeply. "Bes' go an' rub a bit more chilli powder on them salamanders or their tails'll be hangin' off 'em next. See yeh, Kiara ... Chris ... Chrissie ..."

She trudged away, out of the front doors and down the stone steps into the damp grounds. I watched her go, wondering how much more bad news I could stand.

0000

Before I go on, I did get a reply from Grandmother Sarabi. This is what it said.

 _My dearest Kiara,_

 _Don't worry about school. I'm sure your classes will get better and your headaches will stop soon. Good heavens, this sounds like something I should have said to you in your first year, isn't it?_

 _Now, about your business with this Khan boy. The most I can say is is that he's in a very fragile place at the moment, but the fact that he is willing to not only kiss you, but to also ask you out on a date is a big step for him, and it's good that he's trying to move on, which is always hard after you lose someone who means so much to you. You're right, my darling, when you say that Khan is confused, but I think that Georgia would be happy that he's trying to move on; for even though our first love will always hold a special place in our hearts, they wouldn't want us to be alone for the rest of our lives. They'd want us to be happy, and to remember the good times we shared with them. All you need to do, Kiara, is just be patient and gentle with him when it comes to Georgia. When he's ready to talk, he'll talk._

 _Well, I've got to go. Sarafina sends you her love, as always._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Grandmother Sarabi_

I was happy when I read this advice. If only I had remembered it when I went out with Khan, but we'll get to that.

So, the fact that Mina was now on probation became common knowledge within the school over the next few days, but to my indignation, hardly anybody appeared to be upset about it; indeed, some people, like Dani Malty, seemed positively gleeful. As for the freakish death of an obscure Department of Mysteries employee in St Mungo's, Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I seemed to be the only people who knew or cared. There was only one topic of conversation in the corridors in those days: the ten escaped Love Destroyers, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers. Rumours were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Dragsmede, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Howling House and that they were going to break into Dragon Mort, just as my parents had once done.

Those who had come from wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of those Love Destroyers spoken with almost as much fear as Zira's; the crimes they had committed during the days of Zira's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Dragon Mort students, who found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors: Seanan Bongo, whose uncle, aunt and cousins had all died at the hands of one of the ten, said miserably during Herbology said that he had a good idea of what it felt like to be me.

"And I don't know how you stand it - it's horrible," he said bluntly, dumping far too much dragon manure on his tray of Screechsnap seedlings, causing them to wriggle and squeak in discomfort.

It was true that I was the subject of much renewed muttering and pointing in the corridors in those days, yet I thought I detected a slight difference in the tone of the whisperers' voices. They sounded curious rather than hostile, and once or twice I was sure I overheard snatches of conversation that suggested that the speakers were not satisfied with the _Suabbler's_ version of how and why ten Love Destroyers had managed to break out of the Azkaban fortress. In their confusion and fear, these doubters seemed to turn to the only other explanation available to them: the one that Crighton and I had been expounding since the previous year.

It was not only the students' mood that had changed. It was quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching.

"They obviously can't talk freely in the staff room any more," said Sian in a low voice, as she, Chris, Chrissie and I passed Professors Darbus, Winds and Spud huddled together outside the Charms classroom one day. "Not with Umber there."

"Reckon they know anything new?" said Chris, gazing back over his shoulder at the three teachers.

"If they do, we're not going to hear about it, are we?" I said angrily. "Not after Decree ... what number are we on now?" For new notices had appeared on the house noticeboards the morning after the news of the Azkaban breakout:

 _BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF DRAGON MORT_

 _Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Forty-eight._

 _Signed: Democritus Jonas Umber, High Inquisitor_

This latest Decree had been the subject of a great number of stories amongst my fellow students. Leah Jones pointed out to Umber that by the terms of the new rule he was not allowed to tell Tanya and Geri off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"

When I next saw Leah, the back of her hand was bleeding rather badly. I recommended essence of Murtlap.

I had thought the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umber a little, that he might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred under the nose of his beloved Sweets. It seemed, however, to have only intensified his furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Dragon Mort under his personal control. He seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long, and the only question was whether it would be Professor Crystals or Mina who went first.

Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was conducted in the presence of Umber and his clipboard. He leaned by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Crystals' increasingly hysterical talks with difficult questions about ornithomancy and heptomology, insisting that he predicted students' answers before we gave them and demanding that he demonstrate his skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves and the rune stones in turn. I thought Professor Crystals would soon crack under the strain. Several times I passed him in the corridors - in itself a very unusual occurrence as he generally remained in his tower room - muttering wildly to himself, wringing his hands and shooting terrified glances over his shoulder, and all the while giving off a powerful smell of cooking sherry. If I had not been worried about Mina, I would have felt sorry for him - but if one of them was to be ousted from their job, there could be only one choice for me as to who should remain.

Unfortunately, I could not see that Mina was putting up a better show that Crystals. Though she seemed to be following Sian's advice and had shown us nothing more frightening than a Crup - a creature indistinguishable from a Jack Russell terrier except for its forked tail - since before Christmas, she too seemed to have lost her nerve. She was oddly distracted and jumpy during lessons, losing the thread of what she was saying to us, and answering questions wrongly, and all the time glancing anxiously at Umber. She was also more distant with Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I than she had ever been before, and had forbidden us to visit her after dark.

"If he catches yeh, it'll be all of our necks on the line," she told us flatly, and with no desire to do anything that might jeopardise her job further we abstained from walking down to her hut in the evenings.

It seemed to me that Umber was steadily depriving me of everything that made my life at Dragon Mort worth living: visits to Mina's house, letters from my parents (I know I had gotten some from Grandmother Sarabi, but still), my Firecracker and Quidditch. I took my revenge the only way I could - by redoubling my efforts for the CA.

I was pleased to see that all of them, even Zhi Smith, had been spurred on to work harder than ever by the news that ten more Love Destroyers were on the loose, but in nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Nikita. The news of her parents' attackers' escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in her. She had not once mentioned her meeting with Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I on the closed ward in St Mungo's and, taking our lead from her, we had kept quiet about it too. Nor had she said anything on the subject of Katalina and her fellow torturers' escape. In fact, Nikita barely spoke during the CA meetings after that, but worked relentlessly on every new jinx and counter-curse I taught them, her plump face screwed up in concentration, apparently indifferent to injuries or accidents and working harder than anyone else in the room. She was improving so fast that it was quite unnerving and when I taught them the Shield Charm - a means of defending minor jinxes so that they rebounded upon the attacker - only Sian mastered the charm faster than Nikita, who worked just as hard and as furiously as Nikita did. I don't know why, but I think it might have had something to do with Katalina Outsider ...

I would have given a great deal to be making as much progress at Occlumency as Sian and Nikita were making during the CA meetings. My sessions with Triphorm, which had started badly enough, were not improving. On the contrary, I felt I was getting worse with every lesson.

Before I had started Occlumency, my scar had prickled occasionally, usually during the night, or else following one of those strange flashes of Zira's thoughts or mood that she experienced every now and then. But after my Occlumency lessons started, however, my scar hardly ever stopped prickling, and I often felt lurches of annoyance or cheerfulness that were unrelated to what was happening to me at the time, which were always accompanied by a painful tinge from my scar. I had the horrible impression that I was slowly turning into a kind of aerial that was tuned in to tiny fluctuations in Zira's mind, and I was I could date this increased sensitivity firmly from my first Occlumency lesson with Triphorm. What was more, I dreamt about walking down the corridor towards the entrance to the Department of Mysteries almost every night, dreams which almost culminated in me standing longingly in front of the plain black door.

"Maybe it's a bit like an illness," said Sian, looking concerned when I confided in her, Chris and Chrissie. "A fever or something. It has to get worse before it gets better."

"The lessons with Triphorm are making it worse," I said flatly. "I'm getting sick of my scar hurting and I'm getting bored with walking down that corridor every night." I rubbed my forehead angrily. "I just wish the door would open, I'm sick of standing staring at it - "

"That's not funny," said Sian sharply. "Ma doesn't want you to have dreams about that corridor at all, or she wouldn't have asked Triphorm to teach you Occlumency. You're just going to have to work a bit harder in your lessons."

"I am working!" I said, nettled. "You try it some time - Triphorm trying to get inside your head - it's not a bundle of laughs, you know!"

"Maybe ..." said Chrissie slowly.

"Maybe what?" said Chris curiously.

"Yes, sister, please enlighten us," said Sian snappishly.

"Maybe it's not Kiara's fault she can't close her mind," said Chrissie darkly.

"What do you mean?" said Sian.

"Well, maybe Triphorm isn't really trying to help Kiara ..."

Chris, Sian and I stared at her. Chrissie looked darkly and meaningfully at the three of us in turn.

"Maybe," she said again, in a lower voice, "she's actually trying to open Kiara's mind a bit wider ... make it a bit easier for She-You- "

"Shut up, Chrissie," said Sian angrily. "How many times have you suggested Triphorm, and when have either you or Chris ever been right? Ma trusts her, she works for the Order, that ought to be enough."

"Well, she _did_ used to be a Love Destroyer," said Chris slowly.

"Yeah, and when have we ever seen proof that she _really_ swapped sides?" said Chrissie stubbornly.

"Ma trusts her," Sian repeated. "And if we can't trust our own _mother_ , then we can't trust anyone."

0000

With so much to worry about and so much to do - startling amounts of homework that frequently kept us fifth-years working until past midnight, secret CA sessions and regular classes with Triphorm - January passed alarmingly fast. Before I knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Dragsmede visit of the year. I had had very little time to spare for conversations with Khan since we had agreed to visit the village together, but suddenly I found myself facing a Valentine's Day entirely in his company, the prospect of which I found both nerve-wracking and very exciting.

On the morning of the fourteenth I dressed particularly carefully: I wore jeans, an aqua-marine blue blouse and a turquoise jumper with my tan Ugg boots that Grandmother Sarabi got me for my fourteenth birthday. My hair was tied back in a ponytail and Sian and Chrissie helped me with my makeup. They said I didn't need much, but they gave me smoky eyeshadow, a bit of mascara, some blusher to highlight my cheeks a little and some rose coloured lipstick. Sian, Chrissie and I met Chris in the Great Hall for breakfast just in time for the arrival of the pose owls, and when I looked at Chris, I found that he couldn't keep his eyes off me. I found myself blushing at the attention he gave me as I sat down next to him and looked up at the many owls that were swooping into the Hall. Harold was not there - not that I had expected him - but Sian was tugging a letter from the beak of an unfamiliar brown owl.

"And about time! If it hadn't come today ..." she said, eagerly tearing open the envelope and pulling out a small piece of parchment. Her eyes sped from left to right as she read through the message and a grimly pleased expression spread across her face.

"Listen, Kiara," she said, looking up at me, "this is really important. Do you think you could meet me in the Flying Owls around midday?"

"Well ... I dunno," I said uncertainly. "Khan might be expecting me to spend the whole day with him. We never said what we were going to do."

"Well, bring him along if you must," said Sian urgently. "But will you come?"

"Well ... all right, but why?"

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly."

And she hurried out of the Great Hall, the letter clutched in one hand and a piece of toast in the other.

"Are you two coming?" I asked Chris and Chrissie, but they shook their heads, Chris looking excited, whilst shooting apprehensive looks at Chrissie, who looked glum.

"We can't go into Dragsmede at all: Andrew wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help; we're the worst team I've ever seen. You should see Kurt and Slacks, they're pathetic, even worse than I am." She heaved a great sigh. "I dunno why Andrew just won't let me resign."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Chrissie," said Chris, trying to cheer Chrissie up. "You're a great Keeper."

"No, I'm - "

"Yes, you are, when you're on top form, and that's why Andrew won't let you quick," I said irritably.

I found it very hard to be sympathetic to Chrissie's plight, when I myself would have given almost anything to be playing in the forthcoming match against Badger-Stripes. Chrissie seemed to have noticed my tone, because she did not mention Quidditch again during breakfast, and there was a slight frostiness in the way we said goodbye to each other shortly afterwards. Chris and Chrissie departed for the Quidditch pitch and I, after taking a breath mint, proceeded alone to the Entrance Hall to meet Khan, feeling very apprehensive and wondering what we were going to talk about.

He was waiting for me a little to the side of the oak front doors, looking very handsome with his hair smoothed back. I walked towards him with a big smile on my face, blushing profusely the closer I got to him.

"Hi," said Khan nervously.

"H-hi," I said shakily.

Khan took in every inch of my appearance and said, "You look beautiful."

I blushed even more at his comment and looked away slightly, before I looked back at him, smiling. He smiled back at me and I said, "Shall we go?"

Khan nodded, and together we joined the queue of people being signed out by Match, occasionally catching each other's eye and grinning shiftily, but not talking to each other. I was relieved when we reached the fresh air, finding it easier to walk along in silence than just standing about, looking awkward. It was a fresh, breezy sort of day, if I remember rightly, and as we passed the Quidditch stadium I glimpsed Chris and Chrissie skimming along over the stands and I felt a horrible pang that I was not up there with them.

"You really miss it, don't you?" said Khan.

I looked round and saw he was watching me.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I do."

"Remember the first time we played against each other, in the third year?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "You kept blocking me."

"And Cane told you not to be a lady and knock me off my broom if you had to," said Khan, smiling reminiscently. "I heard she got taken on by Pride of Portee, is that right?"

"Nah, it's Puddlemere United; I saw her at the Quidditch Friendly last year."

"Oh, I saw you there, too, remember? We were on the same campsite. It was really good, wasn't it?"

The subject of the Quidditch Friendly carried us all the way down the drive and out through the gates. I could hardly believe how easy it was to talk to him - no more difficult, in fact, than it was talking to Chris, Sian and Chrissie - and I was just starting to feel confident and cheerful when a large group of Snake-Eyes boys passed us, including Parry Parker.

"Pride-Lander and Chan!" shouted Parry, to a chorus of snide laughter. "Ugh, Chan, I don't think much of your taste ... at least Diggs was scar-free!"

The boys sped up, talking and laughing in a pointed fashion with many exaggerated glances back at Khan and I, leaving an embarrassed silence in their wake. I could think of nothing else to say about Quidditch, and Khan, slightly flushed, was looking at his feet.

"So ... where d'you want to go?" I asked as we entered Dragsmede. The High Street was full of students ambling up and down, peering into shop windows and messing about together on the pavements.

"Oh ... I don't mind," said Khan, shrugging. "Um ... shall we just have a look in the shops or something?"

We wandered towards Dervish and Banges. A large poster was stuck up in the window and a few Dragsmeders were looking at it. They moved aside when Khan and I approached and I found myself staring once more at the ten escaped Love Destroyers. The poster, "By Order of the Ministry of Magic", offered a thousand-Galleon reward to any witch or wizard with information leading to the recapture of any of the convicts pictured.

"It's funny, isn't it," said Khan in a low voice, gazing up at the pictures of the Love Destroyers, "remember when the Pride-Landers escaped, and there were Stingers all over Dragsmede looking for them? And now ten Love Destroyers are on the loose and there are no Stingers anywhere ..."

"Yeah," I said, tearing my eyes away from Katalina Outsider's face to glance up and down the High Street. "Yeah, that is weird."

I wasn't sorry that there were no Stingers nearby, but when I thought about it, their absence was highly significant. They had not only let the Loves Destroyers escape, but they weren't even bothering to look for them ... it looked as though they really were outside Ministry control now.

The ten escaped Love Destroyers stared out of every shop window Khan and I passed. It started to rain as we passed Scrivenshaft's; cold, heavy drops of water kept hitting my face and the back of my neck.

"Um ... d'you want to get a coffee?" said Khan tentatively, as the rain began to fall more heavily.

"Yeah, all right," I said, looking around. "Where?"

"Oh, there's a place just up here; have you ever been to Mr Puddleston's?" he said, leading me up a side road and into a small café that I had never noticed before. It was cramped, the walls were painted cream and had pictures of trains on the walls. I supposed it could have been worse.

"Not bad, is it?" said Khan.

"It's ... nice," I said slowly.

"I knew you'd like it - " (seriously, does this guy not get me at all?) " - look, he's decorated it for Valentine's Day!" said Khan, indicating a number of golden cherubs that were hovering over each of the small, circular tables, occasionally throwing pink confetti over the occupants.

"Aaah ..."

We sat down at the last remaining table, which was over by the steaming window. Rita Davis, the Raven-Wings Quidditch Captain, was sitting about a foot and a half away with a good-looking blond boy. They were holding hands. The sight made me feel uncomfortable, particularly when, looking around the café, I saw that it was full of nothing but couples, all of them holding hands. I wondered if Khan wanted me to hold _his_ hand.

"W-what can I get you both?" said Mr Puddleston, a man in his early forties, I guessed, whose grey hair was combed back and was quite stout, squeezed between our table and Rita Davis' with some difficulty.

"Two coffees, please," said Khan.

In the time it took for our coffees to arrive, Rita Davis and her boyfriend had started kissing over their sugar bowl. I wished they wouldn't; I felt that Davis was setting a standard with which Khan would probably expect me to compete. I felt my face growing hot and tried to stare out of the window, but it was so steamed up that I couldn't see the street outside. To postpone the moment when I would have to look at Khan, I stared up at the ceiling as though examining the paintwork and I received a handful of confetti in the face from our hovering cherub.

After a few painful moments had passed, Khan mentioned Umber. I seized on the subject with interest and we passed a few happy moments abusing him, but the subject had been so thoroughly canvassed during meetings it did not last long. Silence fell again. I was very conscious of the slurping noises coming from the table next door and cast wildly around for something else to say.

"Er ... listen, I know you probably wanted us to spend the day together, but Sian asked me to meet her in the Flying Owls around midday. I don't know how long we'll be, but hopefully we won't be there too long. So ... do you fancy going?"

Khan surveyed me through narrowed eyes.

"Who's going to be there with her?"

"I don't know, she didn't have time to tell me. All she said was for us to meet her in the Flying Owls. So ... shall we go?"

He thought about it for a few moments, then said reluctantly, "All right, then, we'll go, even though I _was_ hoping that it would be just the two of us today ..."

It sounded to me as though he was against the idea; his tone was cold and sarcastic and his look was forbidding. A few more minutes passed in silence, and I drank from my coffee so fast that I would soon need a fresh cup. Beside us, Rita Davis and her boyfriend seemed to be glued together at the lips.

Khan's hand was lying on the table beside his coffee and I felt a mounting pressure to take hold of his hand. _Just do it_ , I told myself, as a fount of mingled panic and excitement surged in my chest, _just reach out and grab it_. So I took a silent deep breath, reached over and grabbed it. Khan seemed surprised at my daring, but smiled and held it back. Relief surged in my chest that he didn't pull away, and the two of us spent a few minutes in silence, just holding hands.

Khan then turned his attention to Rita Davis, who was kissing her boyfriend with a mildly interested expression.

"She asked me out, you know," he said in a quiet voice. "A couple of weeks ago, Rita. I turned her down, though."

I felt a surge of jealousy course through me at this comment. I mean, he was holding _my_ hand, not Rita's! Withdrawing my hand, I shot at him, "Why are you bringing this up right now?"

Khan looked at me, shocked. "What?"

I sighed and said, "Khan, you're here with me, not Rita. Why would you bring me here if all you wanted to do was discuss who wanted to bring you here?"

I think Khan realised the insincerity of his words for, as our cherub threw another handful of confetti over us, some of which landed in my coffee, Khan looked genuinely sorry and said, "Kiara, I didn't mean ... it's just ..." He heaved a great sigh, looked me in the eyes and said, "I-I brought Georgia here last year."

In the second or so it took for me to take in what he had said, my insides became glacial. I could not believe he wanted to talk about Georgia, when there were kissing couples surrounding us. I don't mean to sound insincere here, but really, there are many other places where this topic would be acceptable, I'm just saying.

Khan's voice was trembling slightly when he spoke again.

"I've been meaning to ask you for ages ... did Georgia, did she ... mention me at all ... before she died?"

This was the very last subject on earth I wanted to discuss, and least of all with Khan; but I was willing to answer any questions he had for me.

I sighed and said quietly, "Well - no. I'm sorry, Khan, she didn't. There was no time for her to say anything. It happened so quickly, you know."

But apparently, this wasn't enough for Khan. "So, that's just it? She died without saying anything about me?"

"Khan, what more do you want me to tell you?" I said, my voice rising slightly, for I was starting to get annoyed with this now. "I've told you all I know. What more do you want from me?"

Khan sighed and put his head in his hands. When he raised his head again, there was deep anguish in his eyes. "I-I don't know what to tell you, Kiara. It's just ... there's a part of me that wants to know ... Look, I suppose I'm just tired of keeping all of my misery shut in. You're the first person I've got close to since she died, and that's why I want to talk to you about it. You were there, you saw it happen ... didn't you?"

Everything was going nightmarishly wrong; Rita Davis; boyfriend had even unglued himself to look round at us.

"Well - I have talked about it," I said in a whisper, "to Chris, Sian and Chrissie - "

"Oh, so Chris Rickers is _so_ important to you that you'll talk to him about this and not to me?" Khan said shrilly. Several more kissing couples broke apart to stare.

"Chris is just a friend to me, Khan, nothing more," I told him imploringly, but Khan wasn't listening.

"I see the way he looks at me - and at you, Kiara - and I'll tell you this, he's jealous of me, because he wants you! He fancies you! And you talk to him about _my_ Georgia, about the girl I was falling for - "

I gasped, for I never thought he'd go so far as to say that he was falling for Georgia, and the fact that he said that hurt me more than I could say. Khan seemed to know that he had gone too far too, for he looked shocked at what he had just said. He tried to reach for my hand, but I yanked it back. I stared at him, angry and hurt, before I jumped out of my chair a few seconds later and stormed to the door.

"Kiara!" Khan called out to me. I turned to face him, and I saw the hurt and the willingness for me to go back to him, but the damage had been done. I looked at him, stone-faced, shook my head a few times, allowing him to see how hurt I was, before I opened the door of the café, slammed it shut behind me and went stomping down the street, wiping some angry tears from my eyes as I went, and not once did I look back to see if Khan was following me.

As I stomped down the street, with the rain washing away my angry tears, I thought about Khan's last words to me before I left.

 _He's jealous of me, because he wants you ... he fancies_ you! I had, of course, noticed the looks that Chris had been giving me over these past couple of years, but not once did I think that he fancied me! I mean, at this point I thought of Chris as a brother, nothing more. I slowed my steps down, thinking. Could Chris have feelings for me, strongerthan those of what a brother should feel for a sister? Was he jealous at seeing Khan and I together; was that why he always acted so weird whenever Khan was mentioned or when the two of us were together? Would this change the way we were in our relationship? Would I feel anything stronger for Chris? I mean, I knew we shared a Soul Bond, but - and then Khan's hurtful words invaded my mind: _And you talk to him ... about the girl I was falling for ..._ I felt the angry tears coming back, so I willed myself to move and to not let the tears fall.

I then turned right and broke into a splashing run, and within three minutes I was turning into the doorway of the Flying Owls. I knew I was too early to meet Sian, but I thought it likely there would be someone in there with whom I could spend the intervening time. I shook my wet hair out of my eyes and looked around. Mina was sat alone in a corner, looking miserable.

"Hi, Mina!" I said, when I had squeezed through the crammed tables and pulled up a chair beside her.

Mina jumped and looked down at me as though she barely recognised me. I saw that she had two fresh cuts on her face and several new bruises.

"Oh, it's yeh, Kiara," said Mina. "Yeh all righ'?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied; but next to this battered and mournful-looking Mina, I felt I didn't really have much to complain about. "Er - are you OK?"

"Me?" said Mina. "Oh yeah, I'm grand, Kiara, grand."

She gazed into the depths of her pewter tankard, which was the size of a large bucket, and sighed. I didn't know what to say to her. We sat side by side in silence for a moment. Then Mina said abruptly, "In the same boat, yeh an' me, aren' we, Kiara?"

"Er - " I said.

"Yeah ... I've said it before ... both outsiders, like," said Mina, nodding wisely. "An' you was sommat of an orphan, like meself, before yeh mum an' yeh dad came back inter yer life."

She took a great swig from her tankard.

"Makes a diff'rence, havin' a decent family," she said. "Me mum was decent. An' your mum and dad are decent. If they ever get found to be innocent, life'll be diff'rent for yeh, won' it?"

"Yeah ... I s'pose it would," I said cautiously. Mina seemed to be in a very strange mood.

"Family," said Mina gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important."

And she wiped a trickle of it out of her eye.

"Mina," I said, unable to stop myself, "where are you getting all these injuries?"

"Eh?" said Mina, looking startled. "Wha' injuries?"

"All those!" I said, pointing at Mina's face.

"Oh ... tha's jus' normal bumps an' bruises, Kiara," said Mina dismissively. "I've got a rough job."

She drained her tankard, set it back on the table and got to her feet.

"I'll be seein' yeh, Kiara ... take care, now."

And she lumbered out of the pub looking wretched, and disappeared into the torrential rain. I watched her go, feeling miserable. Mina was unhappy and she was hiding something, but she seemed determined not to accept help. What was going on? But before I could think about it any further, I heard a voice calling my name.

"Kiara! Kiara, over here!"

Sian was waving at me from the other side of the room. I got up and made my way towards her through the crowded pub. I was still a few feet away when I realised that Sian was not alone. She was sitting at a table with the unlikeliest pair of drinking mates I could ever have imagined: Lincoln Lovedream, and none other than Peter Meter, ex-journalist on the _Daily Squabbler_ and one of Sian's least favourite people in the world.

"You're early!" said Sian, moving along to give me room to sit down. "I thought you were with Khan, I wasn't expecting you for at least another hour!"

"Khan!" said Peter at once, twisting round in his seat to look at me. "A _boy_?"

He snatched up his crocodile-skin satchel and groped within it.

"It's none of _your_ business if Kiara's been with a hundred guys," Sian told Peter coolly. "So you can put that away right now."

Peter had been on the point of withdrawing an acid-green quill from his bag. Looking as though he had been forced to swallow Stinksap, he snapped his satchel shut again.

"What are you up to?" I asked, sitting down and staring from Peter to Lincoln to Sian.

"Little Miss Perfect here was just about to tell me that when you arrived," said Peter, taking a large swig of his drink. "I suppose I am allowed to _talk_ to her, am I?" he shot at Sian.

"Yes, I suppose you are," said Sian coldly.

Unemployment did not suit Peter. The hair that had once been styled with products now hung dull, lank and unkempt around his face. His nails were chipped and one of the lenses of his glasses was cracked. He took another great gulp of his drink and shot out of the corner of his mouth, "Handsome boy, is he, Kiara?"

"One more word about Kiara's love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," said Sian irritably.

"What deal?" said Peter, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days ..." He took a deep shuddering breath.

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Kiara and me," said Sian indifferently. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about Kiara this year without my help," said Peter, shooting a sideways look at me over the top of his glass and adding in a rough whisper, "How has that made you feel, Kiara? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood?"

"She feels angry, of course," said Sian in a hard, clear voice. "Because she's told the Minister for Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe her."

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that She Who Must Not Be Named is back?" said Peter, lowering his glass and subjecting me to a piercing stare while his finger strayed longingly to the clasp of his crocodile satchel. "You stand by all this garbage Crighton's been telling everybody about She-You-Know returning and you being the sole witness?"

"I wasn't the sole witness," I snarled. "There were a dozen-odd Love Destroyers there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," breathed Peter, fumbling in his satchel once more and gazing at me as though it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "A great bold headline: _"Pride-Lander Accuses ..."_ A sub-heading, _"Kiara Pride-Lander Names Love Destroyers Still Among Us"_. And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you, _"Disturbed teenager survivor of She-You-Know's attack, Kiara Pride-Lander, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the wizarding community of being Love Destroyers ..."_ "

The Quick-Quotes Quill was actually in his hand and halfway to his mouth when the rapturous expression on his face died.

"But of course," he said, lowering the quill and looking daggers at Sian, "Little Miss Perfect wouldn't like that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," said Sian sweetly, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect _does_ want."

Peter stared at her, as did I. Lincoln, on the other hand, sang "Dawson is our Queen" dreamily under his breath and stirred his drink with a cocktail onion on a stick.

"You _want_ me to report about what she says about She Who Must Not Be Named?" Peter asked Sian in a hushed voice.

"Yes, I do," said Sian, "The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Kiara reports them. She'll give you all the details, she'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Love Destroyers she saw there, she'll tell you what Zira looks like now - oh, get a grip on yourself, man," she snapped, throwing a napkin across the table, for, at the sound of Zira's name, Peter had jumped so badly he had slopped half his glass of Firewhisky down himself.

Peter blotted the front of his grubby raincoat, staring at Sian. Then he said boldly, "The _Squabbler_ wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes her cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks she's delusional. Now, if you let me write the story from that angle - "

"We don't need another story about how Kiara's lost her marbles!" said Sian angrily. "We've had plenty of those already, thank you! I want her given the opportunity to tell the truth!"

"There's no market for a story like that," said Peter coldly.

"You mean the _Squabbler_ won't print it because Sweets won't let them," said Sian irritably.

Peter gave Sian a long, hard look. Then, leaning forwards across the table towards her, he said in a businesslike tone, "All right, Sweets is leaning in on the _Squabbler_ , but it comes to the same thing. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the pubic mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe She-You-Know's back."

"So, the _Daily Squabbler_ exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" said Sian scathingly.

Peter sat up straight again, his eyebrows raised, and drained his glass of Firewhisky.

"The _Squabbler_ exists to sell itself, you silly girl," he said coldly.

"MY mum thinks it's an awful paper," said Lincoln, chipping into the conversation unexpectedly. Sucking on his cocktail onion, he gazed at Peter through his enormous, protuberant, slightly mad eyes. "She publishes important stories she thinks the public needs to know. She doesn't care about making money."

Peter looked disparagingly at Lincoln.

"I'm guessing your mother runs some stupid little village newsletter?" he said. "Probably, _Twenty-five Ways to Mingle With Muggles_ and the dates of the next Bring and Fly Sale?"

"No," said Lincoln, dipping his onion back into his Gillywater. "She's the editor of _The Mystics_."

Peter snorted so loudly that people at a nearby table looked round in alarm.

"Important stories she thinks the public needs to know, eh?" he said witheringly. "I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag."

"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit, isn't it?" said Sian pleasantly. "Lincoln says his mother's quite happy to take Kiara's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."

Peter stared at them both for a moment, then let out a great whoop of laughter.

 _"The Mystics!"_ he said, cackling. "You think people will take her seriously if she's published in _The Mystics_?"

"Some people won't," said Sian in a level voice. "But the _Daily Squabbler_ 's version of the Azkaban breakout has some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story available, even if it is printed in a - " she glanced sideways at Lincoln, "in a - well, an _unusual_ magazine, I think they might be rather keen to read it."

Peter didn't say anything for a while, but eyes Sian shrewdly, his head a little to one side.

"All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it," he said abruptly. "What kind of fee am I going to get?"

"I don't think Mammy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," said Lincoln dreamily. "They do it because it's an honour and, of course, to see their names in print."

Peter Meter looked as though the taste of Stinksap was strong in his mouth again as he rounded on Sian.

"I'm supposed to do this _for free_?"

"Well, yes," said Sian calmly, taking a sip of her drink. "Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the _Squabbler_ might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban."

Peter looked as though he would have liked nothing better than to seize the paper umbrella sticking out of Sian's drink and thrust it up her nose.

"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" said Peter, his voice shaking slightly. He opened his crocodile satchel once more, withdrew a piece of parchment, and raised his Quick-Quotes Quill.

"Mammy will be pleased," said Lincoln brightly. A muscle twitched in Lincoln's jaw.

"OK, Kiara?" said Sian, turning to me. "Ready to tell the public the truth?"

"I suppose," I said, watching Peter balancing the Quick-Quotes Quill at the ready on the parchment between us.

"Fire away then, Peter," said Sian serenely, leaning back in her chair and looking far more relaxed and happy around Peter Meter than I had ever seen her.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

 **Seen and Unforeseen**

 **KIARA**

Lincoln said vaguely that he did not know how soon Peter's interview with me would appear in _The Mystics_ , that his mother was expecting a lovely long article on recent sightings of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, " - and of course, that'll be a very important story, so Kiara's might have to wait until the following issue," said Lincoln.

I had not found it an easy experience to talk about the night when Zira had returned. Peter had pressed me for every little detail and I had given him everything I could remember, knowing that this was my one big opportunity to tell the world the truth. I wondered how people would react to the story. I guess that it would confirm to a lot of people in the view that I was insane, not least because my story would be appearing alongside utter rubbish about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. But the breakout of Katalina Outsider and her fellow Love Destroyers had given me a burning desire to do _something_ , whether or not it worked ...

"Can't wait to see what Umber thinks of you going public," said Dena, sounding awestruck over dinner on Saturday night. Zara was shovelling down large amounts of chicken and ham pie on Dena's other side, but I knew she was listening.

"It's the right thing to do, Kiara," said Nikita, who was sitting opposite me. She was rather pale, but she went on in a low voice, "It must have been ... tough ... talking about it ... was it?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, "but people have got to know what Zira's capable of, haven't they?"

"That's right," said Nikita, nodding, "and her Love Destroyers, too ... people should know ..."

Nikita left her sentence hanging and returned to her baked potato. Zara looked up, but when she caught my eye she looked quickly back at her plate again. After a while, Dena, Zara and Nikita departed for the common room, leaving Sian and I at the table waiting for Chris and Chrissie, who had not yet had dinner because of Quidditch practice.

Khan Chan walked into the Hall with his friend Maurice. My stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and the hurtful words he had said to me earlier that day came back, and as he tried to catch my eye, I looked away from him, not wanting him to see me at all.

"Khan has his back to you, you know," said Sian. I jumped and looked at the Raven-Wings table, where Khan was indeed sat with his back to me. I looked back at Sian, who was looking at me concernedly, and said, "I forgot to ask you ... what happened on your date with Khan? How come you were back so early?"

I sighed and said heavily, "It was awful, to be honest."

Sian put her arm around me as I told her what happened in Mr Puddleston's, as I ate my second helping of apple crumble, because I really needed something to help me keep the tears at bay. Unfortunately, that didn't work.

" ... s-so then," I finished, several minutes later, sobbing, as the final bit of crumble disappeared, "he finishes by saying, "A-and you t-talk to him about m-m-my Georgia, the girl I was f-falling for - " I knew he liked Georgia, but I didn't think ..."

"Of course you didn't, none of us did," said Sian, hugging me to her. "So then what happened?"

"Well ... the d-damage was already done, so I stood up and walked out. H-he tried to call me back, but I-I-I didn't want to know ..."

"Oh, Kiara, I'm so sorry," said Sian, "but we could have said he was falling for Georgia because he was angry."

"Angry?" I whispered, wiping my tears, for I had not considered that.

"Yes, angry because you had mentioned Chris, and talked to him before Khan himself about Georgia, but in Khan's eyes he thinks that's insensitive. I mean, Khan was her boyfriend, and the fact that you talked to Chris - without bothering to mention that you thought Chris was ugly, or not mention him at all for that matter - it must have hurt a lot - which is why you should've let Chris out of it."

"But ... what about the stuff he said about Chris fancying me? I didn't know - "

"I know. He was angry and hurt and I think he wanted to make you feel just as bad. He was jealous about you bringing Chris into the subject, and took it a step too far. Plus, it really wasn't sensible of him to bring up the subject of Georgia where you were, but I think he was desperate for some answers."

"No, he shouldn't have," I said grumpily. "I don't like Chris that way, I told him that - and I don't find Chris ugly!"

Sian shrugged. "Still, you should have told Khan that. Things between you two might have gone another way if you had."

"Yeah, well, I was there with Khan, not Chris. It would have been better if he'd told me he fancied me, then I wouldn't have had to talk about Georgia dying with him!"

"Yes, it probably would have been easier," said Sian. Then she chuckled slightly. "You know, you should be lucky."

I looked at her curiously. "What for?"

Sian tried to stifle her laughter as she said, "For you being there and not Chrissie, for I'm pretty sure my sister could have done a lot worse than you."

I thought about this for a moment, and I realised that Sian was right, Chrissie would have been a lot worse. I turned to Sian and we started laughing. We laughed until -

"What are you two laughing about?"

Sian and I looked up and saw Chris and Chrissie joining us, Chris looking just as muddy as Chrissie and both were equally disgruntled as they flopped down opposite us.

"Nothing. Something stupid," I said, looking at Sian slyly, and we both looked away from each other, stifling laughter. Fortunately, neither Chris nor Chrissie asked what the joke was. When I had calmed down, I looked at Chris and Chrissie, who were both moodily picking at their food. "So, how was Quidditch practice?"

"It was a nightmare," said Chrissie in a surly voice.

"Oh, come on," said Sian, looking at Chris, "I'm sure it wasn't that - "

"Yes, it was," said Chris. "It was appalling. Andrew was in a very foul mood by the end of it. There wasn't one of us he didn't shout at."

Chris and Chrissie went off for baths after dinner; Sian and I returned to the Lion-Heart common room and our usual pile of homework. I had been struggling with a new star-chart for Astronomy for half an hour when Tanya and Geri turned up.

"Chris and Chrissie not here?" asked Tanya, looking around as she pulled up a chair, and when I shook my head, she said, "Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."

"Come on, Chris isn't that bad," said Geri fairly, sitting down next to Tanya. "All that training with us paid off a bit, you have to admit."

"Hmm," said Tanya, nodding, mildly impressed.

"Has Chrissie saved a goal yet?" said Sian peering over the top of _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_ (I believe that's what the book was called, anyway).

"Well, she can do if she doesn't think anyone's watching her," said Tanya, rolling her eyes. "So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up her end next Saturday."

She got up again and moved restlessly to the window, staring out across the dark grounds.

"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for."

Sian cast her a stern look.

"You've got exams coming!"

"Told you already, we're not fussed about NEWTs," said Tanya. "The Gross Body Boxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of Murtlap essence sorts them out, Leah put us on to it."

Geri yawned widely and looked out disconsolately at the cloudy night sky.

"I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If Zhi Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."

"Kill her, more like," said Tanya firmly.

"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Sian absentmindedly, once again bent over her rune translation, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the houses."

She looked up to find her copy of _Spellman's Syllabry_ , and caught Tanya, Geri and I all staring at her with expressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on our faces.

"Well, it does!" she said impatiently. "It's only a game, isn't it?"

"Sian," I said, shaking my head, "you're good at feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand Quidditch."

"Maybe not," she said darkly, returning to her translation, "but at least my happiness doesn't depend upon my sister's goalkeeping ability."

And though I would have rather jumped off the Astronomy Tower than admit it to her (at the time), by the time I had watched the game the following Saturday I would have given her any number of Galleons not to care about Quidditch either.

The best thing I can say about the match was that it was short; we Lion-Heart spectators only had to endure twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say what the worst thing about it was: I thought it was a close-run contest between Chrissie's fourteenth failed save, Slacks missing the Bludger but hitting Andrew in the mouth with his bat, and Kurt shrieking and falling backwards off her broom when Zhi Smith zoomed at her carrying the Quaffle. The miracle was that Lion-Heart only lost by ten points: Chris managed to snatch the Snitch from right under Badger-Stripes Seeker Summerfell's nose, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.

"Good catch," I told Chris back in the common room, where the atmosphere resembled that of a particularly dismal funeral.

"I was lucky," he shrugged. "It wasn't a very fast Snitch and Summerfell's got a cold, she sneezed and closed her eyes at exactly the wrong moment. Anyway, once you're back on the team - "

"Chris, I've got a _lifelong_ ban."

"You're banned as long as Umber is in the school," Chris corrected me. "There's a difference. Anyway, once you're back, I think I'll try out for Chaser. Andrew and Aaron are both leaving next year and I prefer goal-scoring to Seeking anyway."

I looked over at Chrissie, who was hunched in a corner, staring at her knees, a bottle of Butterbeer clutched in her hand.

"Andrew still won't let her resign," Chris said, as though reading my mind. "He says he knows she's got it in her."

I liked Andrew for the faith he was showing in Chrissie, but at the same time I thought it would have been kinder to let her leave the team. Chrissie had left the pitch to another booming chorus of "Dawson is our Queen" sung with great gusto by the Snake-Eyes, who were favourites to win the Quidditch Cup.

Tanya and Geri wandered over.

"I haven't even got the heart to take the mickey out of her," said Tanya, looking over at Chrissie's crumpled figure. "Mind you ... when she missed the fourteenth - "

She made wild motions with her arms as though doing an upright doggy-paddle.

" - well, I'll save it for parties, eh?"

Chrissie dragged herself up to bed shortly after this. Out of respect for her feelings, I waited a while before going up to the dormitory myself, so that Chrissie could pretend to be asleep if she wanted to. Sure enough, when I finally entered the room Chrissie was snoring a little too loudly to be entirely plausible.

I got into bed, thinking about the match. It had been immensely frustrating for me having to watch from the sidelines. I was quite impressed by Chris' performance but I knew if I had been playing I could have caught the Snitch sooner ... there had been a moment when it had been fluttering near Kurt's ankle; if Chris hadn't hesitated, he might have been able to scrape a win for Lion-Heart.

Umber had been sitting a few rows below Sian and I. Once or twice he had turned squatly in his seat to look at me, his wide toad's mouth stretched in what I thought had been a gloating smile. The memory of it made me feel hot with anger as I lay there in the dark. After a few minutes, however, I remembered that I was supposed to be emptying my mind of all emotion before I slept, as Triphorm kept instructing me at the end of every Occlumency lesson.

I tried for a moment or two, but the thought of Triphorm on top of memories of Umber merely increased my sense of grumbling resentment and I found myself focusing instead of how much I loathed the pair of them. Slowly, Chrissie's snores died away, to be replaced by the sound of deep, slow breathing. It took me much longer to get to sleep that night; my body was tired, but it took my brain a long time to close down.

Once I had finally fallen into unconsciousness, I dreamed that Nikita and Spud were waltzing around the Room of Needs while Professor Darbus played the bagpipes. I watched them happily for a while, then I decided to go and find the other members of the CA.

But when I left the room I found myself facing, not the tapestry of Beatrix the Bewildered, but a torch burning in its bracket on a stone wall. I turned my head slowly to the left. There, at the far end of the windowless passage, was a plain, black door.

I walked towards it with a sense of mounting excitement. I had the strangest feeling that this time I was going to get lucky at last, and find the way to open it ... I was feet from it, and saw with a leap of excitement that there was a glowing strip of faint blue light down the right-hand side ... the door was ajar ... I stretched out my hand to push it aside and -

Chrissie gave a loud, rasping, genuine snore and I awoke with my right hand stretched in front of me in the darkness, to open a door that was hundreds of miles away. I let it fall with a feeling of mingled disappointment and guilt. I know I should not have seen the door, but at the same time I felt so consumed with curiosity about what was behind it that I could not help but feel annoyed with Chrissie ... if only she could have saved her snore for just another minute.

0000

We entered the Great Hall for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning. Sian was not the only person who eagerly awaited the _Daily Squabbler_ : nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escape Love Destroyers, who, despite many reported sightings, had still not been caught. She gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly while I helped myself to orange juice; as I had only received one note and a letter during the entire year, I was sure, that when the first owl landed with a thud in front of me, that it had made a mistake.

"Who're you after?" I asked it, languidly removing my orange juice from underneath its beak and leaning forwards to see the recipient's name and address:

 _Kiara Pride-Lander_

 _Great Hall_

 _Dragon Mort School_

Frowning as I wondered who would be writing to me, I made to take the letter from the owl, but before I could do so, three, four, five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter and knocking over the salt as each one attempted to give me their letter first.

"What's going on?" Chrissie asked in amazement, as the rest of the Lion-Heart table leaned forward to watch and another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting and flapping their wings.

"Kiara!" said Sian breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mess and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means - open this one first!"

I ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of the March edition of _The Mystics_. I unrolled it to see my own face grinning sheepishly at me from the cover. In large red letters across this picture were the words:

 _KIARA PRIDE-LANDER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:_

 _THE TRUTH ABOUT SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED_

 _AND THE NIGHT I SAW HER RETURN_

"It's good, isn't it?" said Lincoln, who had drifted over to the Lion-Heart table and had squeezed himself between Chris and Chrissie. "It came out yesterday, I asked Mum to send you and your grandmother a free copy each. I expect all these," he waved a hand at the assembled owls that were scrabbling around on the table in front of me, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Sian eagerly. "Kiara, d'you mind if we - ?"

"Help yourself," I said, feeling bemused.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie all started reading envelopes open.

"This one's from a woman who thinks you're off your rocker," said Chris, glancing down the letter. "Ah well ..."

"This one recommends you try a course of Shock Spells at St Mungo's," said Sian, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.

"This one looks OK, though," I said slowly, scanning a long letter from a wizard in Preston. "Hey, he says he believes me!"

"This one's in two minds," said Tanya, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but she really doesn't want to believe She-You-Know's back so she doesn't know what to think now. Blimey, what a waste of parchment."

The next one I opened was from someone I didn't expect to hear from so soon: Grandmother Sarabi. I didn't tell the others at the time, because I thought it was too private to share, but I'm ready to share it now. This is what it said:

 _My dearest Kiara,_

 _I can't believe you've spoken out at last. Normally I would disapprove of you going against the establishment, but in this case you had every right to do this. People deserve to know the truth about this, my darling, no matter how hard it was for you. I've told Sarafina what you've done and showed her the article, and let me tell you this, Kiara, she is just as proud of you as I am. Well done._

 _I have ordered a copy to be sent to Leo and Leona, and I do not doubt how proud of you they will be._

 _Keep in touch if and when you can. Sarafina sends you her love._

 _All my love,_

 _Grandmother Sarabi_

My grandmother's words certainly lifted my heart with joy and love, and I was so happy that my parents were getting a copy. As I kept tears of joy from rolling down my cheeks, I was pulled back to the present by Sian's voice reading another of the letters a reader had sent me.

"Here's another one you've convinced, Kiara!" she said excitedly. _"Having read your side of the story, I am forced to the conclusion that the_ Daily Squabbler _has treated you very unfairly ... little though I want to think that She Who Must Not Be Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth_ ... Oh, this is wonderful!"

"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Chrissie, throwing a crumpled letter over her shoulder, " ... but this one says you've got him converted and he now thinks you're a real hero - he's put in a photograph, too - wow!"

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, babyish voice.

I looked up with my hands full of envelopes. Professor Umber was stood behind Chrissie and Lincoln, his bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of me. Behind him, I saw many of the students watching us avidly.

"Why have you got all these letters, Miss Pride-Lander?" he asked slowly.

"Is that a crime now?" said Tanya loudly. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Miss Fang, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umber. "Well, Miss Pride-Lander?"

I hesitated, but I did not see how I could have kept what I had done quiet; it was surely only a matter of time before a copy of _The Mystics_ came to Umber's attention.

"People have written to me because I gave an interview," I said. "About what happened to me last June."

For some reason I glanced up at the staff table as I said this. I had the strangest feeling that Crighton had been watching me a second before, but when I looked towards the Headmistress she seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Professor Winds. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sian glancing at her mother; I turned to her and saw her eyes flicker from her mother to me. When she looked at me, a slight smirk crossed her face and she flashed me a quick wink. I smiled at her, before I turned back to Umber, who did not look happy. At all.

"An interview?" repeated Umber, his voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them. "Here - "

"And I threw the copy of _The Mystics_ to him. He caught it and stared down at the cover. His pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.

"When did you do this?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Last Dragsmeade weekend," I said.

He looked up at me, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking slightly in his stubby fingers.

"There will be no more Dragsmeade trips for you, Miss Pride-Lander," he whispered. "How you dare ... how you could ..." He took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Lion-Heart and another week's worth of detentions."

He walked away, clutching _The Mystics_ to his chest, the eyes of many students following him.

By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just in house noticeboards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

 _BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF DRAGON MORT_

 _Any student found in possession of the magazine_ The Mystics _will be expelled._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Forty-nine._

 _Signed: Democritus Jonas Umber, High Inquisitor_

For some reason, every time Sian caught sight of one of these signs she beamed with pleasure.

"What exactly are you so happy about?" I asked her.

"Oh, Kiara, don't you see?" Sian breathed. "If he could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was by banning it!"

And it seemed that Sian was quite right. By the end of the day, though I had not seen so much as a corner of _The Mystics_ anywhere in the school, the whole place seemed to be quoting the interview to each other. I heard them whispering about it as we lined up outside classes, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while Chris even reported that every occupant of the cubicles in the boys' toilets had been talking about it when he had nipped in there before Arithmancy.

"They spotted me, and obviously they know I know you, so they bombarded me with questions," Chris told me, his eyes gleaming, "and Kiara, I think they believe you, I really do, I think you've finally got them convinced!"

Meanwhile, Professor Umber was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets: I knew he was looking for copies of _The Mystics_ , but my fellow students were several steps ahead of him. The pages carrying my interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts of textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else were wiped magically blank until they wanted to pursue it again. Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it. I believe that some of them have that interview framed on the walls of their studies or bedrooms today; I myself have a copy to show my children, and even some of my old teachers have it framed, even Professor Darbus does.

And speaking of the teachers, they had, of course, been forbidden from mentioning the interview under Educational Decree Number Forty-eight, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Boggles awarded Lion-Heart twenty points when I entered the classroom on time; a beaming Spud also awarded Lion-Heart twenty points when I passed him a watering can, and Professor Crystals broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Professor Umber, that I was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic and have twelve children. Sure it was a far-fetched prediction, but I appreciated it all the same.

But what made me happiest was Khan catching up with me as I was hurrying along to History of Magic the next day. Before I knew what had happened, his hand was in mine and he breathed in my ear, "I'm really, really sorry. That interview was so brave ... it made me cry."

I was sorry to hear that he had shed even more tears over it, but I was very glad we were on speaking terms again, and I was even more pleased when he gave me a swift kiss on the cheek, which made my face go red and butterflies take off in my stomach as he hurried off again. And unbelievably, no sooner had I arrived outside History of Magic than something just as good happened: Zara stepped out of the queue to face me.

"I just wanted to say," she mumbled, squinting at my left knee, "that I believe you. And I've sent a copy of that magazine to me dad."

If anything more was needed to complete my happiness, it was the reaction I got from Malty, Crate and Gabber. I saw them with their heads together later that afternoon in the library; they were with a weedy-looking girl Sian whispered was called Taika Nechi. They looked round at me as I browsed the shelves for the book I needed on Partial Vanishment. Gabber cracked her knuckles threateningly and Malty whispered something undoubtedly malevolent to Crate. I knew perfectly well why they were acting like this: I had named all of their mothers as Love Destroyers.

"And the best bit," whispered Sian gleefully, as we left the library, "is that they can't contradict you, because they can't admit they've read the article!"

To cap it all, Lincoln told me over dinner that no edition of _The Mystics_ had ever sold out faster.

"Mammy's reprinting!" he told me, his eyes popping excitedly. "She can't believe it, she says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

I was a hero in the Lion-Heart common room that night. Daringly, Tanya and Geri had put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of _The Mystics_ and hung it on the wall, so that my giant head gazed down upon the proceedings, occasionally saying things like "THE MINISTRY ARE MORONS" and "EAT DUNG, UMBER" in a booming voice. Sian did not find this very amusing; she said it interfered with her concentration, and she ended up going to bed early out of irritation. I had to admit that the poster was not quite as funny after an hour or two, especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, so that it merely shouted disconnected words like "DUNG" and "UMBER" at more and more frequent intervals in a progressively higher voice. In fact, it started to make my head ache and my scar began prickling uncomfortably again. To disappointed moans from the many people who were sat around me, asking me to relive my interview for the umpteenth time, I announced that I too needed an early night.

The dormitory had only one person in it when I entered; Sian was sat up in bed, her homework laid out in front of her and a quill in her hand. I rested my forehead for a moment against the cool glass window beside my bed; it felt soothing against my scar. Then I undressed and got into bed, wishing my headache would go away. I also felt slightly sick. I rolled over on to my side, closed my eyes and fell asleep almost at once ...

I was standing in a dark, curtained room, which was lit by a single branch of candles. My hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of me. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders against the dark velvet of the chair.

Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor by the candles, knelt a woman in red robes.

"I have been badly advised, it seems," I said, in a high, cold voice that was pulsating with anger.

"Mistress, I crave your pardon," croaked the woman kneeling on the floor. The back of her head glimmered in the candlelight. She seemed to be trembling.

"I do not blame you, Roscoe," I said in that cold, cruel voice.

I relinquished my grip on the chair and walked around it, closer to the woman cowering on the floor, until I stood directly over her in the darkness, looking down from a far greater height than usual.

"You are sure of your facts, Roscoe?" I asked.

"Yes, my Lady, yes ... I used to work for the Department after - after all ..."

"Aakster told me Bass would be able to remove it."

"Bass could never have taken it, Mistress ... Bass would have known she could not ... undoubtedly, that is why she fought so hard against Malty's Imperius Curse ..."

"Stand up, Roscoe," I whispered.

The kneeling woman almost fell over in her haste to obey. Her face was pockmarked; the scars were thrown into relief by the candlelight. She remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and she darted terrified looks up at my face.

"You have done well to tell me this," I said. "Very well ... I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems ... but no matter ... we begin again, from now. You have Lady Zira's gratitude, Roscoe ..."

"My Lady ... yes, my Lady," gasped Roscoe, her voice hoarse with relief.

"I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me."

"Of course, my Lady, of course ... anything ..."

"Very well ... you may go. Send Aakster to me."

Roscoe scurried backwards, bowing, and disappeared through a door.

Left alone in the dark room, I turned towards the wall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in the shadows. I moved towards it. My reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness ... a face whiter than a skull ... red eyes with slits for pupils ...

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"What?" said a hushed voice nearby.

I flailed around madly, became entangled in the hangings and fell out of bed. For a few seconds I did not know where I was; I was convinced I was about to see the white, skull-like face looming at me out of the dark again, when very near to me Chrissie's voice spoke.

"Will you stop acting like a maniac so I can get you out of here?"

Chrissie wrenched the hangings apart and I stared up at her in the moonlight, flat on my back, my scar searing with pain. Chrissie looked as though she had just been getting ready for bed; one arm was out of her robes.

"Has someone been attacked again?" Chrissie asked, as she pulled me roughly to my feet. "Is it Dad? Is it that snake?"

"No - everyone's fine - " I gasped; my forehead felt like it was on fire. "Well ... Aakster isn't ... she's in trouble ... she gave her the wrong information ... Zira's really angry ..."

I groaned and sank, shaking, on to my bed, rubbing my scar.

"But Roscoe's going to help her now ... she's on the right track again ..."

"What are you talking about?" said Chrissie, sounding scared. "D'you mean ... did you just see She-You-Know?"

"I _was_ She-You-Know," I said, and I stretched out my hand in the darkness and held them up to my face, to check that they were no longer deathly white and long-fingered. "She was with Roscoe, she's one of the Love Destroyers who escaped from Azkaban, remember? Roscoe's just told her Bass couldn't have done it."

"Done what?"

"Remove something ... she said Bass would have known she couldn't have done it ... Bass was under the Imperius Curse ... I think Malty's mum put it on her."

"Bass was bewitched to remove something?" Chrissie said. "But - Kiara, that's got to be - "

"The weapon," I finished the sentence for her. "I know."

The dormitory door opened; Beth, Kestrel and Merida came in. I swung my legs back into bed. I did not want to look as though anything odd had just happened.

"Did you say," murmured Chrissie, putting her head close to mine in the pretence of helping herself to some water from the jug on my bedside table, "that you _were_ She-You-Know?"

"Yeah," I said quietly.

Chrissie took an unnecessarily large gulp of water; I saw it spill over her chin on to her chest.

"Kiara," she said, as Beth, Kestrel and Merida clattered around as quietly as they could, pulling off their robes and whispering, "you've got to tell - "

"I haven't got to tell anyone," I said shortly. "I wouldn't have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency. I'm supposed to have learned to shut this stuff out. That's what they want."

By "they" I meant Crighton. I got back into bed and rolled back over on to my side with my back to Chrissie and after a while I heard Chrissie's mattress creak as she, too, lay back down. My scar began to burn; I bit hard on my pillow to stop myself from making a noise. Somewhere, I knew, Aakster was being punished.

0000

Chrissie and I waited until break next morning to tell Chris and Sian exactly what had happened; we wanted to be absolutely sure that we wouldn't be overheard. Standing in our usual corner of the cool and breezy courtyard, I told them every detail of the dream that I could remember. When I had finished, neither of them said anything. Sian herself was staring with a kind of fierce intensity at Tanya and Geri, whose gloved hands were detached from their arms and were playing some kind of clapping game in the air, as Leah Jones was helping the twins sell their Hand-Transporting Gloves from under her cloak on the other side of the yard, and Chris was just trying to take in what I had told him and Sian (and just so you know, the only reason Sian didn't hear any of this the night before was because she was wearing ear plugs so that she could concentrate on her work without being disturbed by the noise downstairs).

"So that's why they killed her," Sian said quietly, withdrawing her gaze from Tanya and Geri at last. "When Bass tried to steal this weapon, something funny happened to her. I think there must be defensive spells on it, or around it, to stop people touching it. That's why she was in St Mungo's, her brain had gone all funny and she couldn't talk. But remember what the Healer told us? She was recovering. But they couldn't risk her getting better, could they? I mean, the shock of whatever happened when she touched that weapon probably made the Imperius Curse lift. Once she'd got her voice back, she'd explain what she'd been doing, wouldn't she? They'd would have known she'd been sent to steal the weapon. Of could, it would have been easy for Narissa Malty to put the Curse on her. Never out of the Ministry, is she?"

"She was even hanging around the day I had my hearing," I said. "In the - hang on ..." I said slowly. "She was in the Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Your dad said she was probably trying to sneak down and find out what happened in my hearing, but what if - "

"Simone!" gasped Sian, looking thunderstruck.

"Sorry?" said Chris, looking just as bewildered as Chrissie.

"Simone Podds - " said Sian breathlessly, "arrested for trying to get through a door! Narissa Malty must have got her too! I bet she did it the day she saw you, Kiara. Simone had Grumpy's Invisibility Cloak, right? So, what if she was standing guard by the door, invisible, and Malty heard her move - or guessed someone was there - or just did the Imperius Curse on the off-chance there'd be a guard there? So, when Simone next had an opportunity - probably when it was her turn on guard duty again - she tried to get into the department to steal the weapon for Zira - oh, Chris, Chrissie, do be quiet - but she got caught and sent to Azkaban ..."

She gazed at me.

"And now Roscoe's told Zira how to steal the weapon?"

"I didn't hear all the conversation, but that's what it sounded like," I said. "Roscoe used to work there ... maybe Zira'll send Roscoe to do it?"

Sian nodded, apparently still lost in thought. Then, quite abruptly, she said, "But you shouldn't have seen this at all, Kiara."

"What?" I said, taken aback.

"You're supposed to learn how to close your mind to this sort of thing," said Sian, suddenly stern.

"I know I am," I said. "But - "

"Well, I think you should just try and forget what you saw," said Sian firmly. "And you ought to put a bit more on your Occlumency from now on."

I was so angry with her that I did not talk to her for the rest of the day, which proved to be another bad one. When people were not discussing the escaped Love Destroyers in the corridors, they were laughing at Lion-Heart's abysmal performance in our match against Badger-Stripes; the Snake-Eyes were singing "Dawson is our Queen" so loudly and frequently that by sundown Match had it banned from the corridors out of sheer irritation.

That week did not improve as it progressed. I remember getting two more "D"s in Potions; I was still on tenterhooks that Mina might get the sack; and I couldn't stop myself dwelling on the dream in which I had been Zira - though I didn't bring it up with Chris, Sian and Chrissie again; I didn't want another telling off from Sian. I wished very much that I could have talked to my parents about it, but that was out of the question, so I tried to push the matter to the back of my mind.

Unfortunately, the back of my mind was not the secure place it had once been.

"Get up, Pride-Lander."

A couple of weeks after my dream of Roscoe, I was to be found, yet again, kneeling on the floor of Triphorm's office, trying to clear my head. I had just been forced, yet again, to relive a stream of very early memories I had not even realised I still had, most of them concerning horse riding with Grandmother Sarabi in my early childhood in Wales.

"That last memory," said Triphorm. "What was it?"

"I don't know," I said, getting wearily to my feet. I found it increasingly more difficult to separate memories from the rush of images and sound that Triphorm kept calling forth. "You mean the one where the horse bit my hand when I tried to feed it for the first time?"

"No," said Triphorm softly. "I mean the one with the woman kneeling in the middle of a darkened room ..."

"It's ... nothing," I said.

Triphorm's eyes bored into mine. Remembering what Triphorm had said about eye contact being crucial to Legilimency, I blinked and looked away.

"How do that woman and that room come to be inside you head, Pride-Lander?" said Triphorm.

"It - " I said, looking everywhere but at Triphorm, "it was - just a dream I had."

"A dream?" repeated Triphorm.

There was a pause during which I stared at a large dead frog suspended in a jar of purple liquid.

"You do know why we are here, don't you, Pride-Lander?" said Triphorm, in a low, dangerous voice. "You do know why I am giving up my evenings to do this dangerous job?"

"Yes," I said stiffly.

"Remind me why we are here, Pride-Lander."

"So I can learn Occlumency," I said, glaring at a dead eel.

"Correct, Pride-Lander. And dim though you may be - " I looked back at Triphorm, hating her " - I would have thought that after over two months of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Scarlet Lady have you had?"

"Just the one," I lied.

"Perhaps," said Triphorm, her cold, icy eyes narrowing slightly, "perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Pride-Lander? Maybe they make you feel special - important?"

"No, they don't," I said, my jaw set and my fingers clenched tightly around the handle of my wand.

"That is just as well, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Scarlet Lady is saying to her Love Destroyers."

"No - that's your job, isn't it?" I shot at her.

I had not meant to say it; it had burst out of me in temper. For a moment we stared at each other, and I was convinced I had gone too far. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Triphorm's face when she answered.

"Yes, Pride-Lander," she said, her eyes glinting. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again."

She raised her wand: "One - two - three - _Legilimens_!"

A hundred Stingers were flying towards me across the river in the grounds ... I screwed up my face in concentration ... they were coming closer ... I saw their large, unblinking red eyes ... yet I also saw Triphorm standing in front of me, her eyes fixed on my face, muttering under her breath ... and somehow, Triphorm grew clearer, and the Stingers grew fainter ...

I raised my own wand.

 _"Protego!"_

Triphorm staggered - her wand flew upwards away from me - and suddenly my mind was teemed with memories that we not my own: a hook-nosed woman and a man were shouting at each other while a small dark, red-haired girl cried in a corner ... a greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing her wand at the ceiling, shooting down dead flies ... a boy was laughing as a scrawny girl tried to mount a bucking broomstick -

"ENOUGH!"

I felt as though I had been pushed hard in the chest; I staggered several steps backwards, hit some of the shelves covering Triphorm's walls and heard something crack. Triphorm was shaking slightly, and was very white in the face.

The back of my robes were damp. One of the jars behind me had broken when I fell against it; the pickled slimy thing within was swirling in its draining potion.

 _"Reparo,"_ hissed Triphorm, and the jar sealed itself at once. "Well, Pride-Lander ... that was certainly an improvement ..." Panting slightly, Triphorm straightened the Pensieve in which she had again sorted some of her thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though she was checking they were still there. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm ... but there is no doubt that it was effective ..."

I did not speak; I felt that to say anything might be dangerous. I was sure that I had broken into Triphorm's memories, that I had just seen scenes from Triphorm's childhood. It was unnerving for me to think that the little girl who had been crying as she watched her parents shouting was actually standing in front of me with such loathing in her eyes.

"Let's try that again, shall we?" said Triphorm.

I felt a thrill of dread at those words; I was about to pay for what had just happened, I was sure of it. We moved back into position with the desk between us, and I felt sure that it was going to be a lot harder for me to empty my mind this time.

"On the count of three, then," said Triphorm, raising her wand once more. "One - two - "

I did not have time to gather myself together and attempt to clear my mind before Triphorm cried, _"Legilimens!"_

I was hurtling along the corridor towards the Department of Mysteries, past the blank stone walls, past the torches - the plain black door grew larger; I was moving so fast I was going to collide with it, I was feet from it and again I could see the chink of faint blue light -

The door had flown open! I was through it at last, inside a black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blue-flamed candles, and there were more doors all around me - I needed to go on - but which door ought I to take - ?

"PRIDE-LANDER!"

I opened my eyes. I was flat on my back again with no idea of having got there; I was also panting as though I really had run the length of the Department of Mysteries corridor, really had sprinted through the black door and found the circular room.

"Explain yourself!" said Triphorm, who was stood over me, looking furious.

"I ... dunno what happened," I said truthfully, standing up. There was a lump on the back of my head from where I had hit the ground and I felt feverish. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door ... but it's never opened before ..."

"You are not working hard enough!"

For some reason, Triphorm seemed even angrier than she had done two minutes before, when I had seen into my teacher's memories.

"You are lazy and sloppy, Pride-Lander, it is small wonder that the Scarlet Lady - "

"Can you tell me something, _ma'am_?" I said, firing up again. "Why do you call Zira the Scarlet Lady? I've only ever heard the Love Destroyers call her that."

Triphorm opened her mouth with a snarl - and a man screamed from somewhere outside the room.

Triphorm's head jerked upwards; she was gazing at the ceiling.

"What the - ?" she muttered.

I heard a muffled commotion coming from what I thought might be the Entrance Hall. Triphorm looked round at me, frowning.

"Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Pride-Lander?"

I shook my head. Somewhere above us, the man screamed again. Triphorm strode to her office door, her wand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight. I hesitated for a moment, then followed.

The screams were indeed coming from the Entrance Hall; they grew louder as I ran up the stone steps leading from the dungeons. When I reached the top I found the Entrance Hall packed; students had come flooding out of the Great Hall, where dinner was still in progress, to see what was going on; others had crammed themselves on to the marble staircase. I pushed forwards through a knot of tall Snake-Eyes and saw that the onlookers had formed a great ring, some of them looking shocked, others even frightened. Professor Darbus was directly opposite me on the other side of the Hall; she looked as though what she was watching made her feel faintly sick.

Professor Crystals was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall with his wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. His hair was sticking up on end, his glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; his innumerable scarves were trailing haphazardly from his shoulders, giving the impression that he was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside him, one of them upside-down; it looked very much like it had been thrown down the stairs after him. Professor Crystals was staring, apparently terrified, at something I could not see but which seemed to be standing at the foot of the stairs.

"No!" he shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening ... it cannot ... I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realise this was coming?" said a high, babyish voice, sounding callously amused, and, moving slightly to my right, I saw that Crystals' terrifying vision was nothing more than Professor Umber. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"

"You c-can't!" howled Professor Crystals, tears steaming down his face behind his enormous lenses. "You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! D-Dragon Mort is m-my h-home!"

"It _was_ your home," said Professor Umber, and I was revolted to see the enjoyment that stretched across his toadlike face as he watched Professor Crystals sink, sobbing uncontrollably, on to one of his trunks, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic counter-signed your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this Hall. You are embarrassing us."

But he stood and watched, with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Crystals shuddered and moaned, rocking backwards and forwards on his trunk in paroxysms of grief. I heard someone huff in rage to my left, and looking around, I saw Larry and Perry both glaring at Umber. Then I heard footsteps. Professor Darbus had broken away from the spectators, marched straight up to Professor Crystals and patted him firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

"There, there, Cyril ... calm down ... blow your nose on this ... it's not as bad as you think, now ... you are not going to have to leave Dragon Mort ..."

"Oh really, Professor Darbus?" said Umber in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is ...?"

"That would be mine," said a soft voice.

The oaken front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Crighton appeared in the entrance. What she had been doing in the grounds I could not imagine, but there was something impressive about the sight of her framed in the doorway against an oddly misty night. Leaving the doors wide open behind her she strode forwards through the circle of onlookers towards Professor Crystals, tear-stained and trembling, on his trunk, Professor Darbus alongside him.

"Yours, Professor Crighton?" said Umber, with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here - " he pulled a parchment scroll from within his robes " - an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Forty-four, the High Inquisitor of Dragon Mort has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any teacher he - that is to say, I - feel is not performing to the standards set by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Crystals is not up to scratch. I have dismissed him."

To my very great surprise, Crighton continued to smile. She looked down at Professor Crystals, who was still sobbing and choking on his trunk, and said, "You are quite right, of course, Professor Umber. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid," she went on, with a courteous little curtsey, "that the power to do that still resides with the Headmistress, and it is my wish that Professor Crystals continue to live at Dragon Mort."

At this, Professor Crystals gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccough was barely hidden.

"No - no, I'll g-go, Crighton! I sh-shall leave Dragon Mort and s-seek my fortune elsewhere - "

"No," said Crighton sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Cyril."

She turned to Professor Darbus.

"Might I ask you to escort Cyril back upstairs, Professor Darbus?"

"Of course," said Darbus. "Up you get, Cyril ..."

Spud hurried forwards out of the crowd and grabbed Professor Crystals' other arm. Together, they guided him past Umber and up the marble stairs. Professor Winds went scurrying after them, her wand held out before her; she squeaked, _"Locomotor trunks!"_ and Professor Crystals' luggage rose into the air and proceeded up the staircase after him, Professor Winds bringing up the rear.

Professor Umber was standing stock still, staring at Crighton, who continued smiling benignly.

"And what," he said in a whisper that carried all around the Entrance Hall, "are you going to do with him once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs his lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Crighton pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and she will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found - ?" said Umber shrilly. " _You've_ found? Might I remind you, Crighton, that under Educational Decree Number Forty-three - "

"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if - and only if - the Headmistress is unable to find one," said Crighton. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

She turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was drifting. I heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the Hall and those who were nearest the doors moved even further backwards, some of them tripping over their own feet in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer.

Through the mist there came a face that I had once seen before on a dark, dangerous night in the Black Forest: white-blonde hair and astonishingly blue eyes; the head and torso of a woman joined to the palomino body of a horse, who wore animal skins that had been sewn together as a vest to cover her chest.

"This is Fauna," said Crighton happily to a thunderstruck Umber. "I think you'll find her suitable."

 **AN: Sorry for the late update. I really wanted to work on the sixth book of the series this week; it was calling me to do so, and I answered it on the Wednesday of this week, so I'm sorry about that, but here's a new chapter today and the next chapter will definitely be up on Thursday.**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

 **The Centaur and the Sneak**

 **KIARA**

"I bet you wish you hadn't given up Divination now, don't you, Sian?" asked Perry, smirking.

It was breakfast time, two days after the sacking of Professor Crystals, and Perry was styling his hair and examining the effect in the back of his spoon. We were about to have our first lesson with Fauna that morning.

"Not really," said Sian indifferently, who was reading the _Daily Squabbler_. "I mean, I know horses are beautiful creatures, but they're not my favourite animal in the world."

She turned a page in the newspaper and scanned its columns.

"She's not a horse, she's a centaur!" said Larry, sounding shocked.

"A _beautiful_ centaur ..." sighed Perry.

"Either way, she's still got four legs," said Sian coolly. "Anyway, I thought you two were all upset that Crystals had gone?"

"We are!" Larry assured her. "We went up to his office to see him; we took him some daffodils - not the honking ones that Spud's got, nice ones."

"How is he?" I asked.

"Not very good, poor thing," said Larry sympathetically. "He was crying and said he's rather leave the castle for ever than stay here where Umber is, and I don't blame him; Umber was horrible to him, wasn't he?"

"I've got a feeling Umber has only just started being horrible," said Sian darkly.

"Impossible," said Chrissie, who was tucking into a large plate of bacon and eggs. "He can't get any worse than he's been already."

"Oh, don't be so naïve, Chrissie," said Chris sharply. "There's no extent of a person's hatred or love towards other people."

As he said this, he looked down the Lion-Heart table to where Dena Wright was sitting, and she looked at him at the same time, blushing under his gaze.

"Chris is right, Chrissie," said Sian slowly, looking at her brother suspiciously, "and you mark my words, he's going to want revenge on Ma for appointing a new teacher without consulting him." She closed the newspaper. "Especially another part-human. You saw the look on his face when he saw Fauna."

After breakfast Chris departed for his Arithmancy class and Sian for her Ancient Runes class, and Chrissie and I followed Perry and Larry into the Entrance Hall, heading for Divination.

"Aren't we going up to North Tower?" said Chrissie, looking puzzled, as Perry bypassed the marble staircase.

Perry looked at her scornfully over his shoulder.

"How d'you expect Fauna to climb that ladder? We're in classroom eleven now, it was on the noticeboard yesterday."

Classroom eleven was on the ground floor along the corridor leading off the Entrance Hall from the opposite side of the Great Hall. I knew it was one of those classrooms that were never used regularly, and therefore had the slightly neglected feeling of a cupboard or storeroom. When I entered it right behind Chrissie and found myself in the middle of a forest clearing, I was momentarily stunned.

"What the - ?"

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, and were all looking rather nervous. In the middle of the clearing, where there were no trees, stood Fauna.

"Kiara Pride-Lander," she said, holding out a hand when I entered.

"Er - hi," I said, shaking hands with the centaur, who surveyed me unblinkingly through those astonishingly blue eyes but did not smile. "Er - good to see you."

"And you," said the centaur, inclining her white-blonde head. "It was foretold that we would meet again."

I noticed there was a shadow of a hoof-shaped bruise on Fauna's chest on the parts of her skin that were not covered by the vest. As I turned to join the rest of the class on the ground, I saw that they were all looking at me in awe, apparently deeply impressed that I was on speaking terms with Fauna, whom they seemed to find intimidating.

When the door was closed and the last person had sat down on a tree stump beside a wastepaper basket, Fauna gestured around the room.

"Professor Crighton has kindly arranged this classroom for us," said Fauna, when we had all settled down, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Black Forest, which was - until Tuesday - my home ... but that is no longer possible."

"Please - er - ma'am," said Perry breathlessly, raising his hand, " - why not? We've been in there with Mina, we're not frightened!"

"It is not a question of your bravery," said Fauna, "but of my position. I cannot return to the Forest. My herd has banished me."

"Herd?" said Larry in a confused voice, and I knew he was thinking of cows. "What - oh!"

Comprehension dawned on his face. "There are _more_ of you?" he said, stunned.

"Did Mina breed you, like the Thestrals?" said Dena eagerly.

Fauna turned her head very slowly to face Dena, who seemed to realise at once that she had said something very offensive.

"I didn't - I mean - sorry," she finished in a hushed voice.

"Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans," said Fauna quietly. There was a pause, then Perry raised his hand again.

"Please, ma'am ... why have the other centaurs banished you?"

"Because I have agreed to work for Professor Crighton," said Fauna. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind."

I remembered how nearly four years ago, the centaur Basha had shouted at Fauna for allowing me to ride safely on her back; she had called her "a common mule". I couldn't help but wonder whether it had been Basha who had kicked Fauna in the chest.

"Let us begin," said Fauna. She swished her long palomino tail, raised her hand towards the leafy canopy overhead, then lowered it slowly, and as she did so, the light in the room dimmed, so that now we seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars appeared on the ceiling. There were _oohs_ and gasps and Chrissie said audibly, "Blimey!"

"Lie back on the floor," said Fauna in her calm voice, "and observe the heavens. Here it is written, for those who can see, the fortune of our races."

I stretched out on my back and gazed upwards at the ceiling. A twinkling red star winked at me from overhead.

"I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy," said Fauna's calm voice, "and that you have mapped the stars' progress through the heavens. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us - "

"Professor Crystals did astrology with us!" said Perry excitedly, raising his hand in front of him so that it stuck up in the air as he lay on his back. "Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now - " he drew a right-angle in the air above him " - that means people need to be extra careful when handling hot things - "

"That," said Fauna calmly, "is human nonsense."

Perry's hand fell limply to his side.

"Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents," said Fauna, as her hooves thudded over the mossy floor. "These are of no more significance than the scurryings of ants to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements."

"Professor Crystals - " began Perry, in a hurt and indignant voice.

" - is a human," said Fauna simply. "And is therefore blinkered and fettered by the limitations of your kind."

I turned my head very slightly to look at Perry. He looked very offended, as did several of the people surrounding him.

"Cyril Crystals may have Seen, I do not know," continued Fauna, and I heard the swishing of her tail again as she walked up and down before us, "but he wastes his time, in the main, on self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing."

Fauna pointed to the red star directly above me.

"In the past decade, the indications have been that wizardkind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight might soon break out again. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame ..."

It was the most unusual lesson I have ever attended. We did indeed burn sage and mallowsweet there on the classroom floor, and Fauna told us to look for certain shapes and symbols in the pungent fumes, but she seemed perfectly unconcerned that not one of us could see any of the signs she described, telling us that humans were hardly any good at this, that it took centaurs years and years to become competent, and finished by telling us that it was foolish to put too much into such things, anyway, because even centaurs sometimes read them wrongly. She was nothing like any human teacher I have ever had. Her priority did not seem to be to teach us what she knew, but rather to impress upon us that nothing, not even centaurs' knowledge, was foolproof.

"She's not very definite on anything, is she?" said Chrissie in a low voice, as we put out our mallowsweet fire. "I mean, I could do with a few more details about this war we're about to have, couldn't you?"

The bell rang right outside the classroom door and we all jumped; I had quite forgotten that we were still inside the castle, and was quite convince that I was really in the Forest. The class filed out, looking slightly perplexed.

Chrissie and I were on the point of following them when Fauna called, "Kiara Pride-Lander, a word, please."

I turned. The centaur advanced a little towards me. Chrissie hesitated.

"You may stay," Fauna told her. "But close the door, please."

Chrissie hastened to obey.

"Kiara Pride-Lander, you are a friend of Mina's, are you not?" said the centaur.

"Yes," I said.

"Then giver her a warning from me. Her attempt is not working. She would do better to abandon it."

"Her attempt is not working?" I repeated blankly.

"And she would do better to abandon it," said Fauna, nodding. "I would warn Mina myself, but I am banished - it would be unwise for me to go too near the Forest now - Mina has troubles enough without a centaurs' battle."

"But - what's Mina attempting to do?" I said nervously.

Fauna surveyed me impassively.

"Mina has recently rendered me a great service," said Mina, "and she has long since earned my respect for the care she shows all living creatures. I shall not betray her secret. But she must be brought to her senses. The attempt is not working. Tell her, Kiara Pride-Lander. Good-day to you."

0000

The happiness I had felt in the aftermath of _The Mystics_ interview had long since evaporated. As a dull March blurred into a squally April, life seemed to have become one long series of worries and problems for me again.

Umber had continued attending all Care of Magical Creatures lessons, so I had found it very difficult to deliver Fauna's warnings to Mina. At last, I had managed it by pretending I'd lost my copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , and doubling back after class one day. When I'd repeated Fauna's words, Mina gazed at me for a moment through her puffy, blackened eyes, apparently taken aback. Then she seemed to pull herself together.

"Nice girl, Fauna," she said gruffly, "But she don' know what she's talkin' abou' on this. The attemp's comin' on fine."

"Mina, what're you up to?" I said seriously. "Because you've got to be careful, Umber has already sacked Crystals and, if you ask me, he's on a roll. If you're doing anything you shouldn't be, you'll be - "

"There's things more importan' than keepin' a job," said Mina, though her hands shook slightly as she said this and a basin full of Knarl droppings crashed to the floor. "Don' worry abou' me, Kiara, jus' get along now, there's a good girl."

I had no choice but to leave Mina mopping up the dung all over her floor, but I felt thoroughly dispirited as I trudged back up to the castle.

Meanwhile, as the teachers and Sian persisted in reminding us, the OWLs were drawing ever nearer. We fifth-years were suffering from stress of some degree, but Henry Abbott became the first to receive a Calming Draught from Matron after he went into a panic attack during Herbology and panted that he was too stupid to take exams and wanted to leave school now.

If it had not been for the CA lessons, I thought I would have been extremely unhappy. I sometimes felt I was living for the hours I spent in the Room of Needs, working hard but thoroughly enjoying myself at the same time, swelling with pride as I looked around at my fellow CA members and saw how far they had come. Indeed, I sometimes wondered how Umber was going to react when all the members of the CA received "Outstanding" in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWLs.

We had finally started working on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practice, though as I kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when we were not under threat was very different from producing it when confronted by something like a Stinger.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," said Khan brightly, watching his silvery swan-shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Needs during our last lesson before Easter. "They're very pretty!"

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," I said patiently. "What we really need is a Boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the Boggart was pretending to be a Stinger - "

"But that would be really scary!" said Larry, who was shooting puffs of silver vapour out of the end of his wand. "And I still - can't - do it!" he added angrily.

Nikita was having trouble, too. Her face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from her wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," I reminded her.

"I'm trying," said Nikita miserably, who was trying so hard her round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Kiara, I think I'm doing it!" yelled Zara, who had been brought along to her first ever meeting by Dena. "Look - ah - it's gone ... but it was definitely something hairy, Kiara!"

Sian's Patronus, a shining silver lioness (taller than mine, if any of you are wondering), was padding around her.

"They _are_ sort of nice, aren't they?" she said, looking at it fondly.

The door of the Room of Needs opened, and closed. I looked round to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there. It was a few moments before I realised that the people close to the door had fallen silent. Next thing I knew, something was tugging at my robes very near the knee. I looked down and saw, to my very great astonishment, Dokey the house-elf peering up at me from beneath her usual eight woolly hats.

"Hi, Dokey!" I said. "What are you - what's wrong?"

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and she was shaking. The members of the CA closest to me had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dokey. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

"Kiara Pride-Lander, miss ..." squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, "Kiara Pride-Lander, miss ... Dokey has come to warn you ... but the house-elves have been warned not to tell ..."

She ran head-first at the wall. Seeing as I was the only one there who had some experience of Dokey's self-punishment, and therefore knew of the damage she would do to herself, made to seize her, but Dokey merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by her eight hats. Sian and a few of the other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

"What happened, Dokey?" I asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding her away from anything with which she might seek to hurt herself.

"Kiara Pride-Lander ... he ... he ..."

Dokey hit herself hard on the nose with her free fist. I seized that, too.

"Who's "he", Dokey?"

But I thought I knew; only one "he" could induce such fear in Dokey? The elf looked up at me, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly.

"Umber?" I asked, horrified.

Dokey nodded, then tried to bang her head on my knees. I held her at arm's length.

"What about him? Dokey - he hasn't found out about this - about us - about the CA?"

I read the answer in the elf's stricken face. Her hands held fast by me, the elf tried to kick herself and fell to the floor.

"Is he coming?" I asked quietly, as panic rose like a tidal wave within me, which I tried to cool.

"Dokey began to howl, and began beating her bare feet hard on to floor.

"Yes, Kiara Pride-Lander, yes!"

I straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" I bellowed. "RUN!"

They all pelted towards the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through - all except Sian, who stayed by my side. I heard them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense to try and make it all the way to their dormitories. It was only ten to nine; if they just took refuge in the library or the Owlery, which were both nearer -

"Kiara, come on!" shrieked Sian, who stood behind me; I looked at her and saw her anxious-looking face that was imploring me to do something.

I scooped up Dokey, who was still attempting to do herself a serious injury, and ran with the elf in my arms to join the back of the queue of people who were fighting to get out of the door, Sian right behind me.

"Dokey - this is an order - get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if he asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no!" I said. "And I forbid you to hurt yourself!" I added, dropping the elf as Sian and I made it over the threshold at last and I slammed the door behind it.

"Thank you, Kiara Pride-Lander!" squeaked Dokey, and she streaked off. I glanced left and right, the others were all moving so fast I caught only glimpses of flying heels at either end of the corridor before they vanished; I started to run right; there was a girls' bathroom up ahead, I could pretend I'd been in there all the time if I could just reach it; I looked at Sian and knew she was thinking exactly the same thing -

"AAARGH!"

 _"Kiara!"_

Something caught me around the ankles and I fell spectacularly, skidding along on my front for six feet before coming to a halt. Someone behind me was laughing, as Sian rushed over to help me up. Once I was on my feet, we both turned back and saw Malty concealed in a niche beneath an ugly dragon-shaped vase.

"Trip Jinx, Pride-Lander!" she said. "Hey, Professor - PROFESSOR! I've got one!"

Umber came bustling round the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile.

"It's her - and the Eldest Dawson Girl, too!" he said jubilantly at the sight of Sian and myself caught. "Excellent, Dani, excellent, oh, very good - fifty points to Snake-Eyes! I'll take them from here, Dani, thank you very much!"

Sian and I were glaring at Umber and Malty. I had never seen Umber looking so happy. He seized my arm in his left hand and Sian's in his right, holding both of us in a vice-like grip and turned, beaming broadly, to Malty.

"You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Dani," he said. "Tell the others to look in the library - anybody out of breath - check the bathrooms, Mr Parker can do the boys' ones - off you go - and you two," he added in his softest, most dangerous voice, as Malty walked away, "you can both come with me to the Headmistress' office."

We were at the glass elevator within minutes. I wondered how many of the others had been caught. I thought of Chris, Chrissie and the other Dawsons, and how Crighton would likely kill me, seeing as it was my fault that I got her own children expelled. And it had been Zara's very first meeting ... and Nikita had been getting so good ...

Umber placed three tokens into the compartment and the doors opened. We stepped inside and Umber said, "Three for the Headmistress' office, please." The doors closed and hooks came down from the ceiling. I grabbed one, and so did Umber, who released Sian's arm to grab it. As we sped towards Crighton's office, I glanced at Sian, and saw that even though her face looked calm, there was something in her eyes that made me think she was scared about what was going to happen. Once we landed outside the office and stepped out of the elevator, we approached the door with the griffin knocker, but Umber, still with one hand on me, did not bother to knock, but strode straight inside.

The office was full of people. Crighton was sitting behind her desk, her expression serene, the tips of her long fingers together. Professor Darbus stood rigidly beside her, her face extremely tense. Cornelia Sweets, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on her toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kara Shackles and a tough-looking witch with short wiry hair whom I did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Perdy Fang hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in her hands, apparently poised to take notes.

The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were not shamming sleep that night. All of them were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. As Sian and I entered, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbour's ear.

I pulled myself free of Umber's grasp as the door swung shut behind us. As soon as it shut, Sian ran to her mother, who stood up to embrace her, holding each other so tight that they didn't want to let go. Cornelia Sweets ignored this touching display of affection and was glaring at me with a kind of vicious satisfaction on her face.

"Well," she said. "Well, well, well ..."

I replied with the dirtiest look I could muster. My heart drummed madly inside me, but my brain was oddly cool and clear.

"She was heading back to Lion-Heart Tower with the Eldest Dawson Girl," said Umber. There was an indecent excitement in his voice, the same callous pleasure I had heard as he watched Professor Crystals dissolving with misery in the Entrance Hall. "the Malty girl cornered Pride-Lander and the Eldest Dawson Girl helped her up."

"The Malty girl cornered her?" said Sweets appreciatively. "I must remember to tell Narissa. Well, Pride-Lander ... I expect you know why you are here?"

I fully intended to reply with a defiant "yes": my mouth had opened and the word was half-formed when I caught sight of Crighton's face. Crighton was still holding Sian, but she was not looking directly at me - her eyes were fixed on her daughter's shoulder - but as I stared at her, she shook her head a fraction of an inch to each side.

I changed direction mid-word.

"Ye-no."

"I beg your pardon?" said Sweets.

"No," I said firmly.

"You don't know why you are here?"

"No, I don't," I said.

Sweets looked incredulously from myself to Professor Umber. I took advantage of this momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Crighton, who had let go of Sian - who was observing me anxiously - but still had one arm around her, and was giving the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink.

"So you have no idea," said Sweets, in a voice that was positively sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umber has brought you and the Eldest Dawson Girl to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" I said. "No."

"Or Ministry Decrees?" amended Sweets angrily.

"Not that I'm aware of," I said blandly.

My heart was still hammering very fast. It was almost worth telling these lies to watch Sweets' blood pressure rising, but I could not see how on earth I was going to get away with them; if someone had tipped off Umber about the CA then I, the leader, might as well be packing my trunk right now.

"So, it's news to you, is it," said Sweets, her voice now thick with anger, "that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes, it is," I said, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise on my face.

"I think, Minister," said Umber silkily from beside me, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."

"Yes, yes, do," said Sweets, nodding, and she glanced maliciously at Crighton as Umber left the room. "There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Crighton?"

"Nothing at all, Cornelia," said Crighton gravely, inclining her head.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which none of us looked at each other, then I heard the door open behind me. Umber moved past me into the room, gripping by the shoulder to my surprise Khan's curly-haired friend Maurice who was hiding his face in his hands. I turned to Sian quickly, who gave me pointed "I told you so" look, and I knew she meant Keziah.

"Don't be scared, boy, don't be frightened," said Professor Umber softly, patting him on the back, "it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. She'll be telling your father what a good boy you've been. Maurice's father, Minister," he added, looking up at Sweets, "is Mr Edges from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network Office - he's been helping us police the Dragon Mort fires, you know."

"Jolly good, jolly good!" said Sweets heartily. "Like father, like son, eh? Well, come on, now, my dear boy, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to - galloping gargoyles!"

As Maurice raised his head, Sweets leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing herself in the fire. She cursed, and stamped on the hem of her cloak which had started to smoke. Maurice looked uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, and he bent his head low to the ground, but not before we had all seen that his face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across his nose and cheeks to form the word _"SNEAK"_.

"Never mind the spots now, lad," said Umber impatiently, "just raise your head and tell the Minister - "

But Maurice, still looking at the floor, shook his head in shame.

"Oh, very well, you silly boy, _I'll_ tell her," snapped Umber. He hitched his sickly smile back on to his face and said, "Well, Minister, Mr Edges here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me he had something he wanted to tell me. He said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Needs, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned him a little further and he admitted there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex," he waved impatiently at Maurice's lowered face, "came into operation and upon catching sight of his face in my mirror the boy was too shocked by his appearance to tell me any more."

"Well, now," said Sweets, fixing Maurice with what she evidently imagined was a kind motherly look, "it is very brave of you, my boy, coming to tell Professor Umber. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was it's purpose? Who was there?"

But Maurice would not speak; he merely shook his head again, and I could see that his eyes were wide and fearful.

"Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?" Sweets asked Umber impatiently, gesturing at Maurice's lowered face. "So he can speak freely?"

"I have not yet managed to find one," Umber admitted grudgingly, and I looked at Sian, whose eyes had a twinkle of mischief in them, despite the rest of her face being collected, and I felt a surge of pride in her jinxing ability. "But it doesn't matter if he won't speak, I can take up the story from here.

"You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Pride-Lander had met a number of fellow students in the Dragon's Eye in Dragsmeade - "

"And what is your evidence for that?" cut in Professor Darbus.

"I have testimony from Whitney Wallace, Deidre, who happened to be in the bar at the time. She was heavily bandaged, it is true, but her hearing was quite unimpaired," said Umber smugly. "She heard every word Pride-Lander said and hastened straight up to the school to report to me - "

"Oh, so _that's_ why she wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those enchanted toasters!" said Professor Darbus, raising her eyebrows. "What an interesting insight into our justice system!"

"Blatant corruption!" roared the portrait of the corpulent, red-nosed witch on the wall behind Crighton's desk. "The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!"

"Thank you, Felicia, that will do," said Crighton softly.

"The purpose of Pride-Lander's meeting with these students," continued Professor Umber, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age - "

"I think you'll find you're wrong there, Democritus," said Crighton quietly, gazing at him steadily, her arm still wrapped tightly around Sian.

I stared at her. I could not see how Crighton was going to get me out of this one; if Whitney Wallace had indeed heard every word I had said in the Dragon's Eye, there was simply no escaping it.

"Oho!" said Sweets, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet again. "Yes, do let's hear about the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Pride-Lander out of trouble! Go on, then, Crighton, go on - Whitney Wallace was lying, was she? Or was it Pride-Lander's identical twin in the Dragon's Eye that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead woman coming back to life and a couple of invisible Stingers?"

Perdy Fang let out a hearty laugh.

"Oh, very good, Minister, very good!"

I could have kicked her and, from the look on her face, so could Sian. Then I saw, to my astonishment, that Crighton was smiling gently, too.

"Cornelia, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Kiara - that she was in the Dragon's Eye that day, nor that she was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Democritus is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at the time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Kiara's Dragsmeade meeting, so she was not breaking any rules at all in the Dragon's Eye."

Perdy looked as though she had been struck in the face by something very heavy. Sweets remained motionless in mid-bounce, her mouth hanging open.

Umber recovered first.

"That's all very fine, Headmistress," he said, smiling sweetly, "but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Forty-six. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are."

"Well," said Crighton, surveying him with polite interest, "they certainly _would_ be, if they _had_ continued after the Decree had come into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?"

As Crighton spoke, I heard a rustle behind me and rather thought Kara whispered something. I could have sworn, too, that I felt something brush against my side, a gentle something like a draught of bird wings, but looking down I saw nothing there.

"Evidence?" repeated Umber, with that horrible wide toadlike smile. "Have you not been listening, Crighton? Why do you think Mr Edges is here?"

"Oh, can he tell us about six months' worth of meetings?" said Crighton, raising her eyebrows. "I was under the impression that he was merely reporting a meeting tonight."

"Mr Edges," said Umber at once, "tell us how long these meetings have been going on for, lad. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?"

I then felt a horrible plummeting in my stomach. This was it, we had hit a dead end of solid evidence that not even Crighton would be able to shift aside.

"Just nod or shake your head, boy," Umber said encouragingly to Maurice, "come on, now, that won't re-activate the jinx."

All of us in that room were gazing at the top of Maurice's head. Only his eyes were visible from how far his head was bowed, those and his curly fringe. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but his eyes looked oddly blank. And then - to my utter amazement - Maurice shook his head. I looked round quickly at Sian, who looked just as amazed as I did, before I turned back to Maurice and Umber, who looked quickly at Sweets, then back at Maurice.

"I don't think you understood the question, did you, boy? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"

Again, Maurice shook his head.

"What do you mean by shaking your head, boy?" said Umber, in a testy voice.

"I would have thought his meaning was quite clear," said Professor Darbus harshly, "that there have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Mr Edges?"

Maurice nodded.

"But there was a meeting tonight!" said Umber furiously. "There was a meeting, Mr Edges, you told me about it, in the Room of Needs! And Pride-Lander was the leader, was she not, Pride-Lander organised it, Pride-Lander - _why are you shaking your head, boy_?"

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head," said Darbus coldly, "they mean "no". So unless soundless Mr Edges is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans - "

Professor Umber seized Maurice, pulled him around to face him and shook him very hard. A split second later Crighton had let go of Sian and jumped forwards, her wand raised; Kara stepped forwards and Umber leapt back from Maurice, waving his hands in the air as though they had been burned.

"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Democritus," said Crighton and, for the first time, she looked angry.

"You want to calm yourself, Mr Umber," said Kara, in her calm, slow voice. "You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now."

"No," said Umber breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kara. "I mean, yes - you're right, Shackles - I forgot myself."

Maurice was standing exactly where Umber had released him. He seemed neither perturbed by Umber's sudden attack, nor relieved by his release; he still had his head lowered, and his oddly blank eyes kept staring at the floor.

A sudden suspicion connected to Kara's whisper and the thing I had felt shoot past me, sprang into my mind.

"Democritus," said Sweets, with the air of trying to settle something once and for all, "the meeting tonight - the one we know definitely happened - "

"Yes," said Umber, pulling himself together, "yes ... well, Mr Edges tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain _trustworthy_ students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here; Mr Parker ran into the Room of Needs for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the Room provided."

And to my horror (and to Sian's also, whose face blanched a little), he withdrew from his pocket the list of names that had been pinned up in the Room of Needs' wall and handed it to Sweets.

"The moment I saw Pride-Lander's name on the list, I knew exactly what we were dealing with," he said softly.

"Excellent," said Sweets, a smile spreading across her face, "excellent, Democritus. And ... by thunder ..."

She looked up at Crighton, who was still standing beside Maurice, her wand held loosely in her hand.

"See what they've named themselves?" said Sweets quietly. _"Crighton's Army."_

Crighton reached out and took the piece of parchment from Sweets. She gazed at the heading scribbled by Sian months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then she looked up, smiling.

"Well, the game is up," she said simply. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelia - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

I saw Darbus, Sian and Kara look at each other, fear etched in each of their faces. I did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Sweets.

"Statement?" said Sweets slowly. "What - I don't - ?"

"Crighton's Army, Cornelia," said Crighton, still smiling as she waved the list of names before Sweet's face. "Not Pride-Lander's Army. _Crighton's Army._ "

"But - but - "

Understanding blazed suddenly in Sweets' face. She took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out on fire again.

"You?" she whispered, stamping again on her smouldering cloak.

"That's right," said Crighton pleasantly.

"You organised this?"

"I did," said Crighton.

"You recruited these students for - for your army?"

"Tonight was supposed to be their first meeting," said Crighton, nodding. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Mr Edges, of course."

Maurice nodded. Sweets looked from him to Crighton, her face swelling.

"Then you have been plotting against me!" she yelled.

"That's right," said Crighton cheerfully.

"NO!" I shouted.

Kara and Sian both flashed me warning looks, and Darbus widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on me what Crighton was about to do, and I could not let it happen.

"No - Professor Crighton - !"

"Be quiet, Kiara, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office," said Crighton calmly.

"Yes, shut up, Pride-Lander!" barked Sweets, who was still eyeing Crighton with a kind of horrified delight. "Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Pride-Lander and instead - "

"Instead you get to arrest me," said Crighton, smiling. "It's kind of like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"

"Fang!" cried Sweets, now positively quivering with delight. "Fang, have you written it all down, everything she said, her confession, have you got it?"

"Yes, ma'am, I think so, ma'am!" said Perdy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of her note-taking.

"The bit about how she's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how she's been working to destabilise me?"

"Yes, ma'am, I've got it, yes!" said Perdy, scanning her notes joyfully.

"Very well, then," said Sweets, now radiant with glee, "duplicate your notes, Fang, and send a copy to the _Daily Squabbler_ at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!" Perdy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind her, and Sweets turned back to Crighton. "You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!"

"Ah," said Crighton gently, "yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag."

"Snag?" said Sweets, her voice still vibrating with joy. "I see no snag, Crighton!"

"Well," said Crighton apologetically, "I'm afraid I do."

"Oh, really?"

"Well - it's just that you see to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to - what is the phrase? - _come quietly_. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelia. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course - but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing."

Umber's face grew steadily redder; he looked as though he was being filled with boiling water. Sweets stared at Crighton with a very silly expression on her face, as though she had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. She made a small choking noise, then looked round at Kara and the woman with the short hair, who alone of everyone had remained entirely silent so far. The latter gave Sweets a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall. I saw her hand drift, almost casually, towards her pocket.

"Don't be silly, Dalca," said Crighton kindly. "I'm sure you are an excellent Auror - I seem to remember that you achieved "Outstanding" in all your NEWTs - but if you attempt to - er - _bring me in_ by force, I will have to hurt you."

The woman called Dalca blinked rather foolishly. She looked towards Sweets again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next.

"So," sneered Sweets, recovering herself, "you intend to take on Dalca, Shackles, Democritus and myself single-handed, do you, Crighton?"

"Merlin's beard, no," said Crighton, smiling, as she moved to stand beside Sian, who looked anxiously at her mother, "not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."

"She will not be single-handed!" said Professor Darbus, plunging her hand inside her robes.

"Oh yes she will, Deidre!" said Crighton sharply. "Dragon Mort needs you!"

"Enough of this rubbish!" said Sweets, pulling out her own wand. "Dalca! Shackles! _Take her!_ "

A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of my neck and forced me down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Kenna screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, I saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of me; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, "No!", then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan ... and silence.

I struggled around to see who was half-strangling me and saw Professor Darbus crouched beside me; she had forced both myself and Maurice out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air on to us. Panting slightly, I saw two tall figures moving towards us.

"Are you all right?" Crighton asked.

"Yes," said Professor Darbus, getting up and dragging Maurice and I with her.

The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Crighton's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Sweets, Umber, Kara and Dalca lay motionless on the floor. Kenna the phoenix soared in wide circles above us, singing softly.

"Unfortunately, I had to hex Kara too, or it would have looked very suspicious," said Crighton in a low voice. "She was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Mr Edge's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way - thank her for me, won't you, Deidre?

"Now, they will be awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate - you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember - "

"Where will you go, Crighton?" whispered Professor Darbus. "Pumbaa's house?"

"Oh no," said Crighton, with a grim smile, "I am not leaving to go into hiding. Sweets will soon wish she'd never dislodged me from Dragon Mort, I assure you."

"Mother?" said Sian in a small voice. Professor Darbus, Crighton and I turned to Sian, and Darbus and I were both taken aback by what we saw, for instead of the strong, confident young woman we usually saw in Sian, she now looked like a lost little girl, desperate for her mother's love. Crighton smiled at Sian gently and opened her arms out wide, which Sian didn't hesitate to run in to.

"I know, my darling, I don't want to leave either," said Crighton, her arms wrapped tightly around Sian. She pulled back slightly and looked at Sian. "But know this, _magi_ , you can always come here if you wish to feel close to me."

Sian looked confused for a moment. "But how can I when - ?" She then saw her mother's slight smile and small wink, and her confusion was replaced with a smile of pure joy, and she flung her arms around her mother's neck. When they let go again, Crighton said to her, "Look after your siblings for me while I'm gone, won't you?"

Sian smiled at her and said, "We'll look after each other, Ma."

Crighton smiled proudly at her daughter, and said, "I know you will."

"I love you, Ma."

"I love you too, _magi_." Crighton kissed Sian gently on her head and hugged her.

"Professor Crighton ..." I began, as soon as Sian and Crighton let go of each other again.

I did not know what to say first: how sorry I was that I had started the CA in the first place and caused all this trouble, or how terrible I felt that Crighton was leaving to save me from expulsion? But Crighton cut me off before I could say another word.

"Listen to me, Kiara," she said urgently. "You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Triphorm tells you and practice it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams - you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me - "

The woman called Dalca was stirring. Crighton seized my wrist.

"Remember - close your mind - "

But as Crighton's fingers closed over my skin, a pain shot through the scar on my forehead and I felt again that terrible, snakelike longing to strike Crighton, to bite her, to hurt her -

" - you will understand," whispered Crighton.

Kenna circled the office and swooped low over her. Crighton released me, raised her hand and grasped the phoenix's long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone.

"Bye, Ma," Sian whispered, her eyes saddened, but she quickly recovered herself as the Ministry quad came round.

"Where is she?" yelled Sweets, pushing herself up from the floor. _"Where is she?"_

"I don't know!" shouted Kara, also leaping to her feet.

"Well, she can't have Disapparated!" cried Umber. "You can't do it from inside this school - "

"The stairs!" cried Dalca, and she flung herself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, followed closely by Kara and Umber. Sweets hesitated, then got slowly to her feet, brushing dust from her front. There was a long and painful silence.

"Well, Deidre," said Sweets nastily, straightening her torn shirt-sleeve, "I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Crighton."

"You think so, do you?" said Professor Darbus scornfully.

Sian then gave a wry chuckle. Sweets turned on her.

"Something you find amusing, girl?" she said sharply.

"Well, seeing as you asked," said Sian, looking at Sweets unblinkingly, "what I find amusing is that fact that you think my mother's time is over, but I know better. Oh, and you can look for her, Minister, for as long as you want to, but you will _never_ find her that easily, for my mother has ways to make herself elusive, ways in which you've never dreamed of or possibly imagined. But never fear, Minister, never fear ... my mother will return when she chooses to, you can be sure of that."

Many of the portraits cheered and applauded at Sian's words, but Sweets ignored them. Her eyes narrowed angrily at Sian, who stood just as proud and tall as before, unafraid in the face of adversity.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Sweets sneered. "Well, we shall see about that."

"Yes, yes we shall," said Sian, with a patronising smile. Sweets stared at her long and hard for a few moments, before she turned around to look at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at her; one or two even made rude hand gestures.

"You'd better get these three off to bed," said Sweets, looking back at Professor Darbus with a dismissive nod towards Maurice, Sian and I.

Professor Darbus said nothing, but marched myself, Maurice and Sian to the door. As it swung closed behind us, I heard Philomena Naenia''s voice.

"You know, Minister, I disagree with Crighton on many counts ... but you cannot deny she's got style ..."


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

 **Triphorm's Worst Memory**

 **KIARA**

 _BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

 _Democritus Jonas Umber (High Inquisitor) has replaced_

 _Susan Crighton as Head of Dragon Mort Magical Academy._

 _The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Fifty._

 _Signed: Cornelia Oswin Sweets, Minister for Magic_

The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Crighton had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and her Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where I went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Crighton's flight, and though some of the details seemed to have gone away in the retelling (I overheard one second-year boy assuring another that Sweets was lying in St Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head), it was surprising how accurate the rest of the information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Maurice, Sian and I were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Crighton's office and, as Maurice was in the hospital wing, Sian and I found ourselves besieged with request to give a first-hand account (before I go on, I just have to say here that Sian did talk to her siblings about her mother leaving the school the night she left. Naturally, they were all scared - and Sian was a bit scared, too - but she reassured them all that their mother's disappearance (shall we say) wouldn't be for ever, and that she would return when the time was right, and until she did, they would all have to be strong for their mother. For once, the Dawsons all agreed without arguing, and also they all agreed that they would all look out for each other, which Sian was proud of. And that's all you need to know on that front).

"Crighton will be back before long," said Emily Mac confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to mine and Sian's story. "They couldn't keep her away in our second year, and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Nun told me - " she dropped her voice conspiratorially, so that Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had to lean in closer to hear " - that Umber tried to get back into her office last night after they'd searched the grounds for her. Got into the elevator, but couldn't get past the door. The Head's office has sealed itself against him." Emily smirked. "Apparently, he had a right little tantrum."

"Oh, I expect he really fancied himself sitting up there in the Head's office," said Sian viciously, as we walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid, puffed-up, power-crazy old - "

"Now, do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Dawson?"

Dani Malty had slid out from behind the door, closely followed by Crate and Gabber. Her pale, pointed face was alight with malice.

"Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Lion-Heart and Badger-Stripes," she drawled.

"It's only teachers who can dock points from houses, Malty," said Emily at once.

"Yeah, we're Prefects, too, remember?" snarled Chrissie.

"I know _Prefects_ can't dock points, Dawson Queen," sneered Malty. Crate and Gabber sniggered. "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad - "

"The _what_?" said Sian sharply.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Dawson," said Malty, pointing towards a tiny silver "I" on her robes just beneath her Prefect's badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umber. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad _do_ have the power to dock points ... so, Dawson, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmaster. Mac, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Pride-Lander. Dawson Queen, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. Five from you, Rickers, for being friends with Pride-Lander. Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Sackbrain, Dawson, so ten off for that."

Chrissie pulled out her wand, but Sian pushed it away, whispering, "Don't!"

"Wise move, Dawson," breathed Malty. "New Head, new times ... be good now, Pridey ... Dawson Queen ..."

Laughing heartily, she strode away with Crate and Gabber.

"She was bluffing," said Emily, looking appalled. "She can't be allowed to dock points ... that would be ridiculous ... it would completely undermine the Prefect system."

But Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had automatically turned towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind us, which recorded the house points. Lion-Heart and Raven-Wings had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as we watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Snake-Eyes.

"Noticed, have you?" said Tanya's voice.

She and Geri had just come down the marble staircase and joined Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Emily and I in front of the hour-glasses.

"Malty just docked us all about fifty points," I said furiously, as we watched several more stones fly upwards from the Lion-Heart hour-glass.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said Geri.

"What d'you mean, "tried"?" said Chrissie quickly.

"She never managed to get all the words out," said Tanya, "due to the fact that we forced her head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Sian looked very shocked.

"But you'll get into trouble!"

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could be weeks, I dunno where we sent her," said Tanya coolly. "Anyway ... we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble any more."

"Have you ever?" asked Sian, looking sceptically at them.

"Course we have," said Geri. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," said Tanya.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," said Geri.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," said Tanya.

"But now?" said Chris tentatively.

"Well, now - " said Geri.

" - what with Aunt Sue gone - " said Tanya.

" - we reckon a bit of mayhem," said Geri.

" - is exactly what our new Head deserves," said Tanya.

"You mustn't!" whispered Sian. "You really mustn't! I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you're supporting Ma, but there must be another way to go about it! He'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Sian, do you?" said Tanya, smiling at her. "We don't care about staying any more. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Aunt Sue first. So, anyway," she checked her watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" said Sian anxiously.

"You'll see," said Geri. "Run along, now."

Tanya and Geri turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Emily muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

"I think we _should_ get out of here, you know," said Sian nervously. "Just in case ..."

"Yeah, all right," said Chrissie, and the four of us moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but I had barely glimpsed the day's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped me on the shoulder and, turning, I found myself almost nose-to-nose with Match the caretaker. I took several hasty steps backwards; Match was best viewed at a distance.

"The Headmaster would like to see you, Pride-Lander," he leered.

"I didn't do it," I said stupidly, thinking of whatever Tanya and Geri were planning. Match's jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

"Guilty conscience, eh?" he wheezed. "Follow me."

I glanced back at Chris, Sian and Chrissie, all three of whom looked worried. I shrugged, and followed Match back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students.

Match seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as we climbed the marble staircase. As we reached the fist landing he said, "Things are changing around here, Pride-Lander."

"I've noticed," I said coldly.

"Yerse ... I've been telling Crighton for years she's too soft with you all," said Match, chuckling nastily. "You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Fifty-one come in, Pride-Lander, I'll be allowed to do them things ... _and_ he's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Weeves ... oh, things are going to be very different around here with _him_ in charge ..."

Umber had obviously gone to some lengths to get Match on his side, I thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Fang twins.

"Here we are," he said, leering down at me as he rapped three times on Professor Umber's door and pushed it open. "The Pride-Lander girl to see you, sir."

Umber's office, so very familiar to me from my many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of his desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMASTER. Also, my Firecracker and Tanya and Geri's Cleansweeps, which I saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.

Umber was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of his baby-blue parchment, but he looked up and smiled widely at our entrance.

"Thank you, Douglas," he said sweetly.

"Not at all, sir, not at all," said Match, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards.

"Sit," said Umber curtly, pointing towards a chair. I sat. He continued to scribble for a few moments. I watched some of the foul puppies gambolling around the plates over his head, wondering what fresh horror he had in store for me.

"Well, now," he said finally, setting down his quill and surveying me complacently, like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. "What would you like to drink?"

"What?" I said, quite sure I had misheard him.

"To drink, Miss Pride-Lander," he said, smiling still more widely. "Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"

As he named each drink, he gave his short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on his desk.

"Nothing, thank you," I said.

"I wish you to have a drink with me," he said, his voice becoming dangerously sweet. "Choose one."

"Fine ... tea, then," I said, shrugging.

He got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with his back to me. He then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sincerely sweet fashion.

"There," he said, handing it to me. "Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Miss Pride-Lander ... I thought we ought to have a nice little chat, after the distressing events of last night."

I said nothing. He settled himself back into his seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, he said gaily, "You're not drinking up!"

I raised the cup to my lips and then, just as suddenly, I lowered it. One of the horrible painted puppies behind Umber had great round blue eyes just like Crazy-Head Grumpy's four magical round ones and it had just occurred to me what Crazy-Head would say if she ever heard that I had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

"What's the matter?" said Umber, who was still watching me closely. "Do you want sugar?"

"No," I said.

I raised the cup to my lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping my mouth tightly closed. Umber's smile widened.

"Good," he whispered. "Very good. Now then ..." He leaned forwards a little. _"Where is Susan Crighton?"_

"No idea," I said promptly.

"Drink up, drink up," he said, still smiling. "Now, Miss Pride-Lander, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where she has gone. You and Crighton have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Miss Pride-Lander ..."

"I don't know where she is," I repeated.

I pretended to drink again. He was watching me very closely.

"Very well," he said, though he looked displeased. "In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of your parents, Simba and Nala Pride-Lander."

My stomach turned over and my hand holding the teacup shook so that it rattled in its saucer. I tilted the cup to my mouth with my lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down on to my robes.

"I don't know," I said, a little too quickly.

"Miss Pride-Lander," said Umber, "let me remind you that it was I who almost caught your criminal parents in the Lion-Heart fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you they were meeting and if I had had any proof not one of you would be at large today, I promise you ... I repeat, Miss Pride-Lander ... where are your parents?"

Anger coursed through me at hearing Umber call my parents criminals. I wanted to scream that they were anything but, but I knew it was useless to do so. So I took a few deep breaths and said loudly, "No idea. Haven't a clue."

We stared at each other for so long that I felt my eyes watering. Then Umber stood up.

"Very well, Pride-Lander, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Dragon Mort - except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr Match is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. And if I find one shred of evidence ..."

BOOM!

The very floor of the office shook. Umber slipped sideways, clutching his desk for support, and looking shocked.

"What was - ?"

He was gazing towards the door. I took the opportunity to empty my almost-full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. I could hear people running and screaming several floors below.

"Back to lunch you go, Pride-Lander!" cried Umber, raising his wand and dashing out of the office. I gave him a few seconds' start, then hurried after him to see what the source of all the uproar was.

It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody (and I had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

Large phoenixes composed entirely of red and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; bright yellow Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing loudly through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere I looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer I watched.

Match and Umber were standing, apparently transfixed in horror, halfway down the stairs. As I watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to manoeuvre; it whirled towards Umber and Match with a sinister _"wheeeeeeeeee"_. They both yelled with fright and ducked, and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the phoenixes and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape towards the second floor.

"Hurry, Match, hurry!" shrieked Umber. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something - _Stupefy_!"

A jet of red light shot out of the end of his wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking wizard in the middle of a large, empty stone room; he ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the next painting, where a couple of witches playing cards stood up hastily to make room for him.

"Don't Stun them, Match!" shouted Umber angrily, for all the world as though it had been his incantation.

"Right you are, Headmaster!" wheezed Match, who as a Squib could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

I had seen enough; laughing, I ducked down low, ran to a door I knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Tanya and Geri hiding just behind it, listening to Umber and Match's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth.

"Impressive," I said quietly, grinning. "Very impressive ... you'll put Dr Fillibuster out of business, no problem ..."

"Cheers," whispered Geri, wiping tears of laughter from her face. "Oh, I hope he tries Vanishing them next ... they multiply by ten every time you try."

The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers didn't seem to mind them very much.

"Dear, _dear_ ," said Professor Darbus sarcastically, as one of the phoenixes soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and every time it flapped its tail, it would shoot forward in a burst of bright red and gold flame. "Mr Brown, would you mind hurrying along to the Headmaster and inform him that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"

The upshot of it all was that Professor Umber spent his first afternoon as Headmaster running all over the school answering the summons of the other teachers, none of whom seemed to be able to rid their classrooms of the fireworks without him. When the final bell rang and we were heading back to Lion-Heart Tower with our bags, I saw, with immense satisfaction, a dishevelled and soot-blackened Umber tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Winds' classroom.

"Thank you so much, Professor!" said Professor Winds in her squeaky little voice. "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether or not I had the _authority_."

Beaming, she closed the door in his snarling face.

Tanya and Geri were heroes that night in the Lion-Heart common room, for the Dawsons especially, for in their eyes, they blamed no one but Umber for making their mother leave the school, and were therefore very angry at him, so they were glad someone had done something, not only to give Umber a piece of their mind, but to also stand up and defend their mother. Even Sian fought her way through the excited crowd to congratulate them.

"They were wonderful fireworks," she said admiringly.

"Thanks," said Geri, looking both surprised and pleased. "Fangs' Flaming Fun-Works. Only thing is, we used our whole stock; we're going to have to start again from scratch now."

"It was worth it, though," said Tanya, who was taking orders from demanding Lion-Hearts. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Sian, it five Galleons for your Basic Blaze Box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe ..."

Sian returned to the table where Chris, Chrissie and I were sitting, staring at our schoolbags as though hoping our homework would spring out and start doing itself.

"Oh, why don't we have a night off?" said Sian brightly, as a gold-tailed Fang rocket zoomed past the window. "After all, the Easter holidays start Friday, we'll have plenty of time then."

"Are you feeling all right?" Chrissie asked, staring at her sister as though seeing her for the first time.

"Now that you mention it," said Sian happily, "d'you know ... I think I'm feeling a bit ... _rebellious_."

I could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when Sian, Chrissie and I went up to bed an hour later; and as I got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word "DUNG". I got into bed, yawning, and turned on to my side, wondering how Umber was feeling after his first day in Crighton's job, and how Sweets would react when she heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. Smiling to myself, I closed my eyes ...

The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant ... or perhaps I was simply speeding away from them ...

I had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. I was speeding towards the plain black door ... _let it open_ ... _let it open_ ...

It did. I was inside the circular room lined with doors ... I crossed it, placed my hand on an identical door and it swung inwards ...

I was now in a long, rectangular room full of an odd mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls but I did not pause to investigate ... I had to go on ...

There was a door at the far end ... it too opened at my touch ...

And now I was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres ... my heart was beating fast with excitement ... I knew where to go ... I ran forwards, but my footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room ...

The was something in that room I wanted very, very much ...

Something I wanted ... or somebody else wanted ...

My scar was hurting ...

BANG!

I awoke instantly, confused and angry. The dark dormitory was full of the sound of laughter.

"Cool!" said Merida, who was silhouetted again the window. "I think one of the Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!"

I heard Chrissie and Beth scramble out of bed for a better look. I lay quite still and silent while the pain in my scar subsided and disappointment washed over me. I felt as though a wonderful treat had been snatched from me at the very last moment ... I had got so close that time.

Glittering pink and silver winged piglets were soaring past the windows of Lion-Heart Tower. I lay and listened to the appreciative whoops of Lion-Hearts in the dormitories below us. My stomach then gave a sickening jolt as I remembered that I had Occlumency the next evening.

0000

I spent the whole of the next day dreading what Triphorm was going to say if she found out how much further into the Department of Mysteries I had penetrated during my last dream (but she wouldn't, due to a mistake I would make that evening, which I'll get to shortly). With a surge of guilt I realised that I had not practiced Occlumency once since our last lesson: there had been too much going on since Crighton had left; I was sure I would not have been able to empty my mind even if I had tried. I doubted, however, if Triphorm would accept that excuse.

I attempted a little last-minute practice during classes that day, but it was no good. Sian kept asking me what was wrong whenever I fell silent, trying to rid myself of all thought and emotion and, after all, the best moment to empty my brain was not while teachers were firing revision questions at us.

Resigned to the worst, I set off for Triphorm's office after dinner. Halfway across the Entrance Hall, however, Khan came hurrying up to me.

"Over here," I said, glad for a reason to postpone my meeting with Triphorm (which didn't last long), and beckoning him across to the corner of the Entrance Hall where the giant hour-glasses stood. Lion-Heart's was now almost empty. "Are you OK? Umber hasn't been asking you about the CA, has he?"

"Oh, no," said Khan hurriedly. "No, it was only ... well, I just wanted to say ... Kiara, I never dreamed Maurice would tell ..."

"Yeah, well," I said moodily. I did feel Khan might have chosen his friends a bit more carefully; it was small consolation that the last I had heard, Maurice was still up in the hospital wing and Matron had not been able to make the slightest improvement to his pimples.

"He's a nice guy, really," said Khan. "He just made a mistake - "

I looked at him incredulously.

" _A nice guy who made a mistake?_ He sold us all out, including you!"

"Well ... we all got away, didn't we?" said Khan pleadingly. "You know his dad works for the Ministry, it's really difficult for him - "

"Chrissie's dad works for the Ministry, too!" I said furiously. "And in case you haven't noticed, she hasn't got _sneak_ written across her face - "

"That was a really horrible trick of Sian Dawson's," said Khan fiercely. "She should have told us she's jinxed that list - "

"I think it was a brilliant idea," I said coldly. "And at least she chooses her friends well!" Khan flushed and his eyes grew narrower.

"Oh yes, of course, the Eldest Dawson Girl has to be _perfect_ at everything, doesn't - ?" (Before we go on, I should point out here, that for those of you who are wondering about her, Keziah suffered much abuse at the hands of her fellow Snake-Eyes, and was very upset about it, to say the least. I won't go into detail, but some nasty things were said to her. She became an outcast in her own house, and not even her own cousin would stand by her, so she sought refuge and acceptance elsewhere. Those of us who were in the CA who didn't trust her did after the CA was expanded; Chris, Chrissie and I, amongst many others there, apologised to her, and told her that we were her friends, which she was grateful for - especially to Sian, who had trusted and accepted her before the rest of us did, and had formed a close friendship with because of this.)

"Don't start crying again," I said warningly.

"I wasn't going to!" he shouted.

"Yeah ... well ... good," I said. "I've got enough to cope with at the moment."

"Go cope with it, then!" said Khan furiously, turning on his heel and storming off.

Fuming, I descended the stairs to Triphorm's dungeon and, though I knew from experience how much easier it would be for Triphorm to penetrate my mind if I arrived angry and resentful, I succeeded in nothing but thinking of a few more things I should have said to Khan about Maurice before reaching the dungeon door.

"You're late, Pride-Lander," said Triphorm coldly, as I closed the door behind me.

Triphorm was stood with her back to me, removing, as usual, certain of her thoughts and placing them in Crighton's Pensieve. She dropped the last silvery strand into the stone basin and turned to face me.

"So," she said. "Have you been practicing?"

"Yes," I lied, looking carefully at one of the legs of Triphorm's desk.

"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?" said Triphorm smoothly. "Wand out, Pride-Lander."

I moved into my usual position, facing Triphorm with the desk between us. My heart was pumping fast with anger at Khan and anxiety about how much Triphorm was about to extract from my mind.

"On the count of three, then," said Triphorm lazily. "One - two - "

Triphorm's office door banged open and Dani Malty sped in.

"Professor Triphorm, ma'am - oh - sorry - "

Malty looked at Triphorm and I in some surprise.

"It's all right, Dani," said Triphorm, lowering her wand. "Pride-Lander is here for a little remedial Potions."

I had not seen Malty looked so gleeful since Umber had turned up to inspect Mina.

"I didn't know," she said, leering at me as my face burned. I would have given a great deal to be able to shout the truth at Malty - or, even better, to hit her with a good curse.

"Well, Dani, what is it?" asked Triphorm.

"It's Professor Umber, ma'am - he needs your help," said Malty. "They've found Montague, ma'am. She's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor."

"How did she get in there?" demanded Triphorm.

"I don't know, ma'am, she's a bit confused."

"Very well, very well. Pride-Lander," said Triphorm, "we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening."

She turned and swept from her office. Malty mouthed, _"Remedial Potions?"_ at me behind Triphorm's back before following her.

Seething, I replaced my wand inside my robes and made to leave the room. I remember thinking that at least I had twenty-four hours in which to practice; I knew I ought to feel grateful for the narrow escape, though it was hard that it came at the expanse of Malty telling the whole school that I needed remedial Potions.

I was at the office door when I saw it: a patch of shivering light dancing in the doorframe. I stopped, and stood looking at it, reminded of something ... then I remembered: it was a little like the light I had seen in my dream last night, the lights in the second room I had walked through on my journey through the Department of Mysteries.

I turned around. The light was coming from the Pensieve sitting on Triphrom's desk. The silver-white contents were ebbing and swirling within. Triphorm's thoughts ... things she didn't want me to see if I broke through Triphorm's thoughts accidentally ...

Looking back now, I should have just walked away and left it alone, but as I gazed at the Pensieve, curiosity welled up within me ... I wondered what Triphorm was so keen on keeping from me ...

The silvery lights shivered on the wall ... I took two steps towards the desk, thinking hard. Could there possibly be information in there about the Department of Mysteries that Triphorm was determined to keep from me?

I looked over my shoulder, my heart pumping harder and faster than ever. I wondered how long it would take for Triphorm to release Montague from the toilet. Would she come straight back to her office afterwards, or accompany Montague to the hospital wing? Surely the latter ... Maontague was Captain of the Snake-Eyes Quidditch team, and therefore Triphorm would want to make sure she was all right.

I walked the remaining few feet to the Pensieve and stood over it, gazing into its depths. I hesitated, listening, then pulled my wand out again. The office and corridor beyond were completely silent. I gave the contents of the Pensieve a small prod with the end of my wand.

The silvery stuff within began to swirl very fast. I leaned forwards over it and saw that it had become transparent. I was, once again, looking down into a room as though through a circular window in the ceiling ... in fact, unless I was much mistaken, I was looking down into the Great Hall.

My breath was actually fogging the surface of Triphorm's thoughts ... my brain seemed to be in limbo ... it would be insane to do the thing I was so strongly tempted to do ... I was trembling ... Triphorm could be back at any moment ... but I thought of Khan's anger, of Malty's jeering face, and a reckless daring seized me.

I took a great gulp of breath, and plunged my face into the surface of Triphorm's thoughts. At once, the floor of the office lurched, tipping me head-first into the Pensieve.

I was falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as I went, and then -

I was standing in the middle of the Great Hall, but the four house tables were gone. Instead, there were more than a hundred smaller tables, all facing the same way, at each of which sat a student, head bent low, scribbling on a roll of parchment. The only sound was the scribbling of quills and the occasional rustle as somebody adjusted their parchment. It was clearly exam time.

Sunshine was streaming through the high windows on to the bent heads, which shone chestnut and copper and gold in the bright light. I looked around carefully. Triphorm had to be here somewhere ... this was _her_ memory ...

And there she was, at a table right behind me. I stared. Triphorm-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about her, like a plant kept in the dark. Her hair was lank and greasy and was flopping on to the table, her hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment as she scribbled. I moved around behind Triphorm and read the heading of the examination paper: DEFENCE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL.

So Triphorm had to be fifteen or sixteen, around my own age. Her hand was flying across the parchment; she had written at least a foot more than her closest neighbours, and yet her writing was miniscule and cramped.

"Five more minutes!"

The voice made me jump. Turning, I saw the top of Professor Winds' head moving between the desks a short distance away. Professor Winds was walking past a girl with straight golden hair ... very pale golden straight hair ...

I moved so quickly that, had I been solid, I would have knocked desks flying. Instead I seemed to slide, dreamlike, across two aisles and up a third. The back of the golden-haired girl's head drew nearer and ... she was straightening up now, putting down her quill, pulling her roll of parchment towards her so as to reread what she had written ...

I stopped in front of the desk and gazed down at my fifteen-year-old mother.

I had, of course, met my mother and seen photographs of her, but that did not stop the excitement that floated through me at seeing my mother without the enchantment of a mirror, the help of a photograph and the Azkaban effect on her, for I saw how beautiful she was. It was as though I was looking at myself but with some deliberate mistakes. My mother's eyes were blue, her nose was slightly longer than mine, there was no scar on her forehead and there were no shades of tawny brown in her hair, but we had the same thin face, same eyebrows; my mother's hair curled at the ends just like mine did, her hands could have been my hands and I could tell that, when my mother stood up, we would be within an inch of each other in height.

My mother yawned hugely and combed her fingers through her long straight hair, making it even straighter. Then, with a glance towards Professor Winds, she turned in her seat and grinned at a boy sitting four seats behind her.

With another shock of excitement, I saw Pumbaa give my mother the thumbs-up. Pumbaa was lounging in his chair at ease, tilting it back on two legs. He was good-looking, considering the fact he was quite chubby; his dark hair was swept back and quite untidy, and a girl sitting behind him was eyeing him hopefully, though he didn't seem to have noticed. And two seats along from this girl - my stomach gave another pleasurable squirm - was Timon Meers. He looked rather pale and peaky (was the full moon approaching?) and was absorbed in the exam: as he reread his answers, he scratched his chin with the end of his quill, frowning slightly.

So that meant Wormy had to be around here somewhere, too ... and sure enough, I spotted him within seconds: a small, mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose. Wormy looked anxious; he was chewing his fingernails, staring down at his paper, scuffing the ground with his toes. Every now and then he glanced hopefully at his neighbour's paper. I stared at Wormy for a moment, then back at my mother, who was doodling on a bit of scrap parchment. She had drawn a Snitch and was tracing the letters "S.P.L". I was a fool to ask myself what those letters stood for, when the answer is so blatantly obvious!

"Quills down, please!" squeaked Professor Winds. "That means you too, Stubbins! Please remain seated while I collect your parchment! _Accio!_ "

Over a hundred rolls of parchment zoomed into the air and into Professor Winds' outstretched arms, knocking her backwards off her feet. Several people laughed. A couple of students at the front desks got up, took hold of Professor Winds beneath the elbows and lifted her back on to her feet.

"Thank you ... thank you," panted Professor Winds. "Very well, everybody, you're free to go!"

I looked down at my mother, who hastily crossed out the "S.P.L." she had been embellishing, jumped to her feet, stuffed her quill and exam paper into her bag, which she slung over her back, and stood waiting for Pumbaa to join her.

I looked around and glimpsed Triphorm a short way away, moving between tables towards the doors to the Entrance Hall, still absorbed in her own exam paper. Round-shouldered yet angular, she walked in a twitchy manner that recalled a spider, and her oily hair was jumping about her face.

A gang of chattering boys separated Triphorm from my mother, Pumbaa and Meers, and by planting myself in their midst, I managed to keep Triphorm in sight while straining my ears to catch the voices of my mother and her friends.

"Did ya like question ten, Moonshine?" asked Pumbaa as we emerged into the Entrance Hall.

"Loved it," said Meers briskly. " _Give five signs that identify the werewolf._ Excellent question."

"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said my mother in tones of mock concern.

"Think I did," said Meers seriously, as we joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: he's sitting in my chair. Two: he's wearing my clothes. Three: his name's Timon Meers."

Wormy was the only one who didn't laugh.

"I got the snout shape, the pupils of the eyes and the tufted tail," he said anxiously, "but I couldn't think what else - "

"How thick are you, Wormy?" said Mum impatiently. "You run around with a werewolf once a month - "

"Keep your voice down, will you, Nala?" implied Meers. "I don't want the whole school to find out!"

I looked anxiously around me again. Triphorm remained close by, still buried in her own exam questions - but this was Triphorm's memory and I was sure that if Triphorm chose to wander off in a different direction once outside in the grounds, then I, Kiara, would not have been able to follow my mother any further. To my intense relief, however, when my mother and her three friends strode off down the lawn towards the river, Triphorm followed, still poring over the exam paper and apparently with no fixed idea where she was going. By keeping a little ahead of her, I managed to maintain a close watch on my mother and the others.

"Well, I thought that paper was a piece of cake," I heard Pumbaa say. "I'll be surprised if I don't get "Outstanding" on it at least. And speaking of cake, who else is hungry?"

"I think I'll get "Outstanding", too," said Mum, ignoring Pumbaa's last comment. She put her hand in her pocket and took out a struggling, Golden Snitch.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nicked it," said Mum casually. She started playing with the Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again; her reflexes were excellent. Wormy watched her in awe.

They stopped in the shade of the very same beech tree on the edge of the river where Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I had once spent a Sunday finishing our homework, and threw themselves down on the grass. I looked over my shoulder yet again and saw, to my delight, that Triphorm had settled herself on the grass in the dense shadow of a clump of bushes. She was as deeply immersed in the OWL paper as ever, which left me free to sit down on the grass between the beech and the bushes and watch the foursome under the tree. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the river, on the bank of which the group of laughing boys who had just left the Great Hall were, splashing each other with water and trying to push each other in.

Meers had pulled out a book and was reading. Pumbaa leaned back against the tree, relaxing in the shade, his eyes opening and closing lazily. My mother was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormy was watching her with his mouth open. Every time my mother made a particularly difficult catch, Wormy gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, I wondered why my mother didn't tell him to get a grip on himself, but my mother seemed to be enjoying the attention. I noticed that she had a habit of sweeping her hair out of her face, and she also kept looking at the boys by the water's edge.

"Nala, put that away, will you," said Meers finally, not looking up from his book, as my mother made a fine catch and Wormy let out a loud cheer, "before Wormy here wets himself with excitement."

Wormy turned slightly pink, but my mother grinned.

"If it bothers you," she said, stuffing the Snitch back in her pocket. I had the distinct impression that next to Pumbaa, Meers was the only one for whom my mother would have stopped showing off.

Pumbaa, who had his eyes closed, said lazily, "I wish it was full moon."

"You might," said Meers darkly from behind his book. "We've still got Transfiguration. I don't like studying that much, either, but it keeps away the boredom. Here ..." and he held out his book.

Pumbaa opened one of his beady eyes, looked at the book disgustedly and snorted. "I don't need to know that rubbish, Timon, I know it all."

"This'll liven you up, Tusks," said Mum quietly. "Look who it is ..."

Pumbaa raised his head slightly and slowly, and looked, bleary-eyed, at where my mother was looking, gazing at whoever it was through the grass.

"Excellent," he said softly. _"Tripey."_

I tried to see what Pumbaa was looking at.

Triphorm was on her feet again, and was stowing her OWL paper in her bag. As she left the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, my mother and Pumbaa stood up.

Meers and Wormy remained sitting: Meers was still staring at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormy was looking from Pumbaa and my mother to Triphorm with a look of avid anticipation on his face.

"All right, Tripey?" said Mum loudly.

Triphorm reacted so fast it was as though she had been expecting an attack: dropping her bag, she plunged her hand inside her robes and her wand was halfway into the air when my mother shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Triphorm's wand flew twelve feet into the air and fell with a little thud in the grass behind her. Pumbaa snorted with laughter.

 _"Impedimenta!"_ he said, pointing his wand at Triphorm, who was knocked off her feet halfway through a dive towards her own fallen wand.

Students all around had turned to watch. Some of them had got to their feet and were edging nearer. Some looked apprehensive, others entertained.

Triphorm lay panting on the ground. My mother and Pumbaa advanced on her, wands raised, my mother glancing over her shoulder at the boys at the water's edge as she went. Wormy was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Meers to get a clearer view.

"How'd the exam go, Tripey?" said Mum.

"I was watching her, her nose was touching the parchment," said Pumbaa viciously. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."

Several people watching laughed; Triphorm was clearly unpopular. Wormy sniggered shrilly. Triphorm was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on her; she was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

"You - wait," she panted, staring up at my mother with an expression of purest loathing, "you - wait!"

"Wait for what?" said Pumbaa coolly. "What're you going to do, Tripey, wipe your nose on us?"

Triphorm let out a stream of mixed swear words and hexes, but with her wand ten feet away nothing happened.

"Wash out your mouth," said Mum coldly. _"Scourgify!"_

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Triphorm's mouth at once; the froth was covering her lips, making her gag, choking her -

"Leave her ALONE!"

My mother and Pumbaa looked round. My mother's free hand immediately swept her hair back.

It was one of the boys from the river edge. He had a long, smooth mane of tawny hair that fell to just beneath his shoulder blades, small, light amber eyes, and the mouth I recognised, because it was identical to mine.

My father.

"All right, Simba?" said Mum, and the tone of her voice was suddenly pleasant, sweeter and more mature, as a slight blush crept up her cheeks.

"Leave her alone," my father repeated. He was looking at my mother with every sign of great dislike. "What's she ever done to you?"

"Well," said Mum, appearing to deliberate the point, "it's more the fact that she exists, if you know what I mean ..."

Many of the surrounding students laughed, Pumbaa and Wormy included, but Meers, still apparently intent on his book, didn't, nor did my father.

"You think you're funny," he said coldly. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Nala. Leave her _alone_."

"Well ... if you go out with me I will," said Mum flirtatiously. "Go on ... go out with me and I'll never lay a hand on Tripey again."

Behind her, the Impediment Jinx was wearing off. Triphorm was beginning to inch towards her fallen wand, spitting out soapsuds as she crawled.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid," my father said.

"Bad luck, Leona," said Pumbaa briskly, and turned back to Triphorm. "OI!"

But too late; Triphorm had directed my wand straight at my mother; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of my mother's face, spattering her robes with blood. Mum whirled about: a second flash of light later, Triphorm was hanging upside-down in the air, her robes falling over her head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying knickers.

Many people in the small crowd cheered; my mother, Pumbaa and Wormy roared with laughter.

My father, whose furious expression twitched for an instant as though he was going to smile, said, "Let her down!"

"Certainly," said Mum, and she jerked her wand upwards; Triphorm fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Disentangling herself from her robes, she quickly got to her feet, wand up, but Pumbaa said, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ and Triphorm keeled over again, rigid as a board.

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" my father shouted. He had his own wand out now, and was pointing it more at Pumbaa than my mother. She and Pumbaa were eyeing my father's wand wearily.

"Ah, Simba, don't make me hex you," said Mum earnestly.

"Take the curse off her, then!"

My mother sighed deeply, then turned to Triphorm and muttered the counter-curse.

"There you go," she said, as Triphorm struggled to her feet. "You're lucky Simba was here, Tripey - "

"I don't need help from filthy little Sackbrains like him!"

My father blinked.

"Fine," he said coolly. "I won't bother in future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, _Tripey_."

"Apologise to Simba!" my mother roared at Triphorm, her wand pointed threateningly at her.

"I don't want _you_ to make her apologise," my father shouted, rounding on my mother. "You're as bad as she is."

"What?" Mum yelped. "I'd NEVER call you a - you-know-what!"

"Sweeping your hair back because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off a broomstick - yes, we're on the same Quidditch team, Nala, but at least I'm not showing off with a Snitch, and walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can - I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. I thought you were better than this, Nala. What happened to the sweet girl I used to know, huh? What happened to my best friend?"

"Well, I - I just grew up, Sim. I - I changed - "

My father scoffed at this. "Yeah, I can see _that_ , all right. And as for growing up ..." He shook his head slowly. "I think you've got a long way to go, Nala. To be honest, I don't know who you are any more, and right now .., the very sight of you makes me SICK."

He turned on his heel and hurried away.

"Simba!" my mother shouted after him. "Hey, SIMBA!"

But he didn't look back.

"What is with him?" said Mum, trying and failing to look as though this was a throwaway question of no real importance.

"Reading between the lines, I'd say he thinks you're a bit conceited, mate," said Pumbaa.

"Right," said Mum, who looked furious now, "right - "

There was another flash of light, and Triphorm was once again upside-down in the air.

"Who wants to see me take off Tripey's knickers?"

But whether my mother really did take off Triphorm's knickers, I never found out. A hand had closed tight over my upper arm, closed with a pince-like grip. Wincing, I looked round to see who had hold of me, and saw, with a thrill of horror, a fully grown, adult-sized Triphorm standing right beside me, white with rage.

"Having fun?"

I felt myself rising into the air; the summer's day evaporated around me; I was floating upwards through icy blackness, Triphorm's hands still tight upon my arm. Then, with a swooping feeling as though I had turned head-over-heels in mid-air, my feet hit the stone floor of Triphorm's dungeon and I was standing again beside the Pensieve on Triphorm's desk in the shadowy, present-day Potion mistress' study.

"So," said Triphorm, gripping my arm so tightly my hand was starting to feel numb. " _So_ ... been enjoying yourself, Pride-Lander?"

"N-no," I said, trying to free my arm.

It was scary; Triphorm's lips were shaking, her face was white, her teeth were bared.

"Amusing woman, your mother, isn't she?" said Triphorm, shaking me so hard that my head flopped backwards and forwards (you can imagine how painful that was on my neck).

"I - didn't - "

Triphorm threw me from her with all her might. I fell hard on to the dungeon floor.

"You will not repeat what you saw to anybody!" Triphorm bellowed.

"No," I said, getting to my feet as far from Triphorm as I could. "No, of course I w- "

"Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"

And as I hurried towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over my head. I wrenched the door open and flew along the corridor, stopping only when I had out three floors between Triphorm and myself. There I leaned against the wall, panting, and rubbing my bruised arm.

I had no desire at all to return to Lion-Heart Tower so early, nor to tell Chris, Sian and Chrissie what I had just seen (and to this day, I haven't - well, normally, anyway). What made me feel so horrified and unhappy was not being shouted at or having jars thrown at me; it was that I knew how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, knew exactly how Triphorm had felt as my mother had taunted her, and that judging from what I had just seen, my mother had been every bit as arrogant as Triphorm had always told me.

 **AN: Hello, dear readers. Sorry this chapter took so long. I'm afraid I was rather ill this week. I've been in hospital since Sunday with an inflamed gallbladder, but I'm all right now and was discharged earlier today. Things will be back to normal on Sunday, this I promise you.**


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

 **Careers Advice**

 **KIARA**

"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons any more?" said Sian, frowning.

"I've _told_ you," I muttered. "Triphorm reckons I can carry on by myself now I've got the basics."

"So you've stopped having funny dreams?" said Sian sceptically.

"Pretty much," I said, not looking at her.

"Well, I don't think Triphorm should stop until you're absolutely sure you can control them!" said Sian indignantly. "Kiara, I think you should go back to her and ask - "

"No," I said forcefully. "Just drop it, Sian, OK?"

It was the first day of the Easter holidays and Sian, as was her custom, had spent a large part of the day drawing up revision timetables for the four of us. Chris, Chrissie and I had let her do it; it was easier than arguing with her and, in any case, they might come in useful.

Chrissie had been startled to discover that there were only six weeks left until our exams.

"How can that come as a shock?" Sian demanded, as she tapped a little square on Chrissie's timetable with her wand so that it flashed a different colour according to its subject.

"I dunno," said Chrissie, "there's a lot going on."

"Well, there you are," Sian said, handing Chrissie her timetable, "if you follow that you should be fine."

Chrissie looked down at it gloomily, but then brightened.

"You've given me an evening off every week!"

"She's done the same for me, too," said Chris, peeking over Sian's shoulder to see what she was doing with his timetable.

"That's for Quidditch practice," said Sian.

The smile faded from Chrissie's face.

"What's the point?" she said dully. "We've got about as much chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year as Dad's got of becoming Minister for Magic."

Sian and Chris said nothing; they were both looking at me; I could see them watching me out of the corner of my eye as I stared blankly at the opposite wall of the common room while Lucifer pawed at my hand, trying to get his ears scratched.

"What's wrong, Kiara?" said Chris.

"What?" I said quickly. "Nothing."

I seized my copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ and pretended to be looking up something in the index. Lucifer gave me up as a bad job and slunk away under Sian's chair.

"I saw Khan earlier," said Sian tentatively. "He looked really miserable, too - "

"He did?" said Chris interestedly. I turned to look at him; he was gazing at Sian intently, and was I imagining it, or did his eyes have a mixture of excitement and happiness in them?

"Yes ... he did," said Sian slowly, looking at Chris curiously. "Why are you so concerned, Rickers? For I've never see you take an interest in Khan before."

"Oh, well ... um ..." Chris stumbled. "I'm ... um ... obviously concerned for Kiara ... and I want to be there for her ... because I have a feeling that what happened between she and Khan didn't end well."

I thought this was a lame excuse, and apparently Sian thought so, too, for she looked at him shrewdly and muttered, "Hmm ..." before she turned her head back to me, un-narrowed her eyes and said, "Kiara, have you two been fighting again?"

"Yeah, we have," I said, seixing gratefully on the excuse.

"What about?"

"That sneak friend of his, Maurice," I said.

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you!" said Chrissie angrily, setting down her revision timetable. "If it hadn't been for him ..."

Chrissie went into a rant about Maurice Edges, which I found helpful; all I had to do was look angry, nod and say "Yeah" and "That's right" whenever Chrissie drew breath, leaving my mind free to dwell, ever more miserably, on what I had seen in the Pensieve.

I remember feeling that the memory of it was eating me from the inside. I had been so sure my parents were wonderful people that I had never had the slightest difficulty in disbelieving the aspersions Triphorm cast on my mother's character. Hadn't people like Mina and Meers _told_ me how wonderful my mother had been? ( _Yeah, well, look what Meers was like himself_ , said a nagging voice inside my head ... _he didn't do anything to stop Mum, did he?_ ) Yes, I had once overheard Professor Darbus saying that my mother and Pumbaa had been troublemakers at school, but she had described them as forerunners of the Fang twins, and I could not imagine Tanya and Geri dangling someone upside-down for the fun of it ... not unless they really loathed them ... perhaps Malty, or somebody who really deserved it ...

I tried to make a case for Triphorm having deserved what she had suffered at the hands of my mother: but hadn't my father asked, "What's she done to you?" And hadn't my mother replied, "It's more the fact that she _exists_ , if you know what I mean." Hadn't my mother started it all simply because Pumbaa implied that he was bored? I remembered Meers saying back at Pumbaa's House that Crighton had made him Prefect in the hope that he would be able to exercise some control over my mother and Pumbaa ... but in the Pensieve, he had sat there and let it all happen ...

I kept reminding myself that my father had intervened; my father had been decent. Yet, the memory of the look on his face as he shouted at my mother disturbed me quite as much as anything else; he had clearly grown out of touch with my mother and disliked her to a certain extent (understatement, I know), and I simply could not understand how they could have ended up married. Once or twice I even wondered whether my mother had forced him into it ...

Since I had started at Dragon Mort, the thought of my mother had been a source of comfort, of inspiration - and a bit of a mystery too, let's not forget. Whenever someone had told me I looked like my mother, I had glowed with pride inside (and I still do). But at that moment ... at that moment I felt cold and miserable at the thought of her, and - as much as I hate to say this - I was ashamed of her, too.

Anyhoo, the weather grew breezier, brighter and warmer as the Easter holidays passed, but myself, and the rest of the fifth- and seventh-years, were trapped inside, revising, traipsing back and forth to the library. I pretended that my bad mood had no other cause but the approaching exams, and as my fellow Lion-Hearts were sick of studying themselves, my excuse was unchallenged.

"Kiara, I'm talking to you, can you hear me?"

"Huh?"

I looked round. Chris, looking very windswept, had joined me at the library table where I had been sitting alone. It was late on Sunday evening: Sian had gone back to Lion-Heart Tower to revise Ancient Runes, and Chris and Chrissie had Quidditch practice (or, were supposed to have Quidditch practice, anyway).

"Oh, hi," I said, pulling my books towards me. "How come you're not at practice?"

"It's over," said Chris. "Chrissie had to take Jackie Slacks up to the hospital wing."

"Why?"

"Well, we're not sure, but we _think_ she knocked herself out with her own bat."

"Oh," I said, as he sighed heavily. "Well, why are you here with me, then? Shouldn't you be back in the common room with Dena?"

Over the past few weeks, Chris had been spending a lot of time with Dena, walking with her to class, spending time with her at lunch and sitting with her in the common room, helping her study. Sian, Chrissie and I were under the impression that they were dating, which Sian and Chrissie found odd for some reason, but I was more than happy to see him dating someone. It didn't bother me that much (well, not at that point it didn't, anyway).

"I will do in a minute," said Chris. "But a package just arrived; it's only just got through Umber's new screening process."

He hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper on to the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly re-wrapped. There was a scribbled nose across it in red ink, reading: _Inspected and Passed by the Dragon Mort High Inquisitor_.

"It's Easter eggs from Sarabi," said Chris. "She made one for each of us, and this one's yours ... there you go."

He handed me a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, contained a bag of All-Flavour Beans. I looked at it for a moment, then, to my horror, I felt a lump rise in my throat.

"Are you OK, Kiara?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine," I said gruffly. The lump in my throat was painful. I did not understand why an Easter egg should have made me feel like that.

Chris sighed deeply, then persisted (albeit half-heartedly), "You seem really down lately. You know, I'm sure if you just _talked_ to Khan ..."

"It's not Khan I want to talk to," I said brusquely.

"Who is it, then?" asked Chris with genuine interest, watching me closely.

"I ..."

I glanced around to make quite sure nobody was listening. Sir Pincer was several shelves away, stamping out a pile of books for a frantic-looking Henry Abbott.

"I wish I could talk to my parents," I muttered. "But I know I can't."

Chris continued to watch me thoughtfully. More to give myself something to do than because I really wanted any, I unwrapped my Easter egg, broke off a large bit and put it into my mouth.

"Well," said Chris slowly, helping himself to a bit of egg, too, "if you really want to talk to Leo and Leona, I expect we could think of a way to do it."

"Come on," I said dully. "With Umber policing the fires and reading all our mail?"

"The thing about growing up with Tanya and Geri around you most of the time," said Chris thoughtfully, "is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve."

I looked at him. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate - Meers had always advised eating some after encounters with Stingers - or simply because I had finally spoken aloud the wish that had been burning within me that week, but I felt a bit more hopeful.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

"Oh damn," whispered Chris, jumping to his feet. "I forgot - "

Sir Pincer was swooping down on us, his shrivelled face contorted with rage.

 _"Chocolate in the library!"_ he screamed. "Out - _out_ \- OUT!"

And whipping out his wand, he caused my books, bag and ink bottle to chase Chris and I from the library, whacking us repeatedly over the head as we ran.

0000

As though to underline the importance of our upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Lion-Heart Tower shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:

 _CAREERS ADVICE_

 _All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below._

I looked down the list and found that I was expect in Professor Darbus' office at half past two on Monday (the same times as Sian, which surprised us both), which meant missing most of Divination. Myself and the other fifth-years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the careers information that had been left there for our perusal.

"Well, I don't fancy Healing," said Chrissie on the last evening of the holidays. She was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St Mungo's on its front. "It says here you need at least "E" at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. I mean ... blimey ... don't want much, do they?"

"Well, it's a very responsible job, isn't it?" said Sian absently. She was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet that was headed, "SO YOU THINK YOU'D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?" "You don't seem to need too many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies: _Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience and a good sense of fun!_ "

"You need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my aunt," I said darkly. "Good sense of when to duck, more like." I was halfway through a pamphlet on wizarding banking. "Listen to this: _Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Fauntrotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad_ ... They want Arithmancy, though; you could do it, Chris!"

"I don't much fancy banking," said Chris vaguely, now immersed in: "HAVE YOU GOT WHAT IT TAKES TO TRAIN SECURITY TROLLS?"

"Hey," said a voice in my ear. I looked round; Tanya and Geri had come to join us. "Chris here had a word with us about you earlier," said Tanya, stretching out her legs on the table in front of us and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off on to the floor. "He said you need to talk to Simba and Nala?"

"What?" said Sian sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up "MAKE A BANG AT THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL ACCIDENTS AND CATASTROPHES", looking from myself to Chris and back again, shocked.

"What can I say? She needed help, and I've given her the tools she needs," said Chris, shrugging.

"Chris did, Sian, and I thank him for it," I said, throwing him a grateful smile, which he returned. Then I turned to Sian and said, trying to sound casual, "Well, you know ... I thought I'd like - "

"Don't be so ridiculous," said Sian, straightening up and looking at me as though she could not believe her eyes. "With Umber groping around in fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said Geri, stretching and smiling. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Tanya. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's revision, too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."

She gave Sian a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Tanya continued briskly. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of an uproar, why not do it so that Kiara can have her little chat with Simba and Nala?"

"Yes, but _still_ ," said Sian, with an air of explaining something very simple to somebody very obtuse, "even if you do cause a diversion, how is Kiara supposed to talk to them?"

"Umber's office," I said quietly.

I had been thinking about it for that past fortnight and came up with no alternative. Umber himself told me that the only fire that was not being watched was his own.

"Are - you - insane?" said Sian in a hushed voice.

Chrissie had lowered her leaflet on jobs in the Cultivated Fungus Trade, and both she and Chris were watching our conversation warily.

"I don't think so," I said, shrugging.

"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"

I was ready for this question.

"My parents' knife," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"Christmas before last my parents gave me a knife that'll open any lock," I said. "So even if he's bewitched the door so _Alohomora_ won't work, which I bet he has - "

"What do you think about this?" Sian demanded of Chrissie, and I was reminded irresistibly of Grandmother Sarabi appealing to Mr Dawson during my first dinner in Pumbaa's House.

"I dunno," said Chrissie, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. "If Kiara wants to do it, it's up to her, isn't it?"

"Spoken like a true friend and Fang cousin," said Tanya, squeezing Chrissie's shoulder. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's in the corridors - Kiara, we'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw him away from his own office - I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?" she said, looking at Geri.

"Easy," said Geri.

"What sort of diversion is it?" said Chris.

"You'll see, cous," said Tanya, and she and Geri got up again. "At least, you will if you trot along to Genevieve the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."

0000

I remember waking very early the next day, feeling almost as anxious as I had done on the morning of my disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic. It was not only the prospect of breaking into Umber's office and using his fire to speak to my parents that made me feel nervous, though that was certainly bad enough, I was also worrying about the following day, when I would be in close proximity to Triphorm after Triphorm had thrown me out of her office.

After lying in bed for a while thinking about the day ahead, I got up very quietly and moved across to the window beside Merida's bed, and stared out on a truly glorious morning. The sky was a clear, misty, opalescent blue. Directly ahead of me, I saw the towering beech tree below which my mother had once tormented Triphorm. I was not sure what either of my parents could possibly say to me that would make up for what I had seen in the Pensieve (my mother in particular), but I was desperate to hear their own account of what had happened, to know of any mitigating factors there might have been, any excuse at all for my mother's behaviour ...

Something caught my attention: movement on the edge of the Black Forest. I squinted into the sun and saw Mina emerging from between the trees. She seemed to be limping. As I watched, Mina staggered to the door of her cabin and disappeared inside it. I watched the cabin for several minutes. Mina did not emerge again, but smoke furled from the chimney, so Mina could not be so badly injured that she was unequal to stoking the fire.

I turned away from the window, headed back to my trunk and started to dress.

With the prospect of forcing entry into Umber's office ahead, I had never expected the day to be a restful one, but I had not reckoned on Sian's almost continual attempts to dissuade me from what I was planning to do at five o'clock. For the first time ever, she was the least inattentive in class (which was Muggle Studies), and as Chris, Chrissie and I were focusing on what Professor Boggles was saying, every so often Sian would offer up a stream of whispered admonitions that I tried very hard to ignore.

" ... and if he does catch you up there, apart from being expelled, he'll be able to guess you've been talking to Leo and Leona and this time I expect he'll _force_ you to drink Veritaserum and answer his questions ..."

"Sian," said Chrissie in a low and indignant voice, "are you going to stop telling Kiara off and listen to Boggles, or am I going to have to take my own notes?"

"You take notes for a change, it won't kill you!"

By the time we reached the greenhouses, neither Chris nor Chrissie nor I were speaking to Sian (Chris wasn't angry with her, he just thought it best not to say anything). Undeterred, she took advantage of our silence to maintain and uninterrupted flow of dire warnings, all under her breath in a vehement hiss that caused Zara to waste five minutes checking the plants around her to see if any were creeping up on her. Sian kept muttering to me for the entire lesson, and I was so annoyed at her that as soon as the bell rang, I hurried out of the greenhouse without a backwards glance, and I made sure that I found myself a seat between Nikita and Zara for lunch so that Sian could not start nagging me about using Umber's office.

I was in such a bad mood by the time I got to Charms that I had quite forgotten about my joint appointment with Sian in Professor Darbus' office(even though Sian left five minutes before the appointed time), and I only remembered when Chrissie asked me why I wasn't in her office. I hurtled out of the room and down a couple of floors and arrived out of breath, only a few minutes late, where I found Sian and Professor Umber in a heated argument, both of them standing up and with red faces, and Professor Darbus was sat behind her desk, watching on with great interest. Sian and Umber stopped when I opened the door, and all three occupants in the room turned to look at me ...

 **SIAN**

As Sian walked down to Professor Darbus' office on her own with Kiara (which didn't bother her that much), many thoughts ran through her. She was angry with Kiara for what she was planning to do. What on earth was she thinking of, planning to break into Umber's office without any thought of what the consequences would be if she was caught! And what about the sacrifice her mother had given Kiara and her siblings to make sure they stayed in school? Didn't that matter to Kiara at all? But she didn't have too much time to think about these thoughts, for when she knocked on the door and was told to enter, she found the worst person she could think of to see at that moment sitting in a corner, with a clipboard and quill in hand: Professor Umber.

"Close the door and take a seat, Miss Dawson," said Professor Darbus. When Sian did not move, she added, "Don't mind our _guest_ , Miss Dawson, he is just here to keep an eye on things."

Sian then closed the door and moved towards one of the seats opposite Darbus' desk, rolling her eyes at Umber being here. Great. _Just_ what she needed.

"Now, then," said Professor Darbus when Sian had sat, "this meeting is to discuss any thoughts at what future you'd like to pursue in the future, and ..." Professor Darbus looked next to her and realised that there was someone missing. "Where's Miss Pride-Lander?"

"I think her appointment time has slipped her mind, Professor," Sian answered. "I'm sure she'll be here soon, though. And speaking of Kiara, why do she and I have the same appointment times?"

"Because our Headmaster over there," said Professor Darbus, with a disapproving glare to Umber's corner, "wants to keep a good eye on the two girls who are closest to Professor Crighton."

Sian's eyebrows raised. So that's why Umber was here, to spy on those closest to her mother and make sure they don't make decisions that aren't _"Ministry approved"_. After a few moments, Professor Darbus spoke again.

"So, Miss Dawson, have you been thinking about what you would like to do once you've left Dragon Mort?"

"Yes," Sian answered at once. "I've been thinking about doing more to help house-elves. I know things have improved for them as it is, but there I believe that there is more that can be done, and it won't hurt to - "

There came an annoying little laugh from Umber's corner that made Sian shudder uncomfortably. Sian turned around and asked him with fake politeness, "Yes, sir? Is there something you would like to add?"

"Well, it's just that we already have someone working on that at the Ministry, dear," said Umber in that sickeningly sweet voice of his, "and I don't think we need more - "

"Well, forgive me for wanting to do some good in the world for a change," Sian shot back, "or is that not Ministry approved, as well?"

Sian watched, satisfied, as Umber's smile faded a little and he turned back to his clipboard. Sian turned back to Professor Darbus, who she saw was wearing a thin smile. Sian asked her, "What do you think, Professor?"

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Miss Dawson. With a mind like yours, I can see that any idea you put your mind to will have wonderful effects. I think it a good idea to look into the Ministry background, perhaps even speak to someone from the Ministry about it ... or have you done that already?"

Sian noticed the gleam in Professor Darbus' eye, chuckled and said, "You know me well, Professor."

Professor Darbus nodded and said, "Good. Anything else?"

"Yes. Helping house-elves is all well and good, but I would do that outside of a main career."

"Oh. And what else would you think of doing?"

"I was thinking of becoming a teacher here, actually."

Professor Darbus looked at Sian thoughtfully and said, "Like mother like daughter, eh?"

"My thoughts exactly," came a snide voice from the corner, which Sian and Professor Darbus both ignored.

"Well, you'd need full marks in all your NEWT subjects," said Professor Darbus, opening Sian's file and pulling out her a sheet of parchment. "I can see here that all your marks look good. "Outstanding" in all your subjects, except one. I see that you have "Exceeds Expectations" in Defence Against the Dark Arts - "

"So Little Miss Perfect isn't so perfect after all?" came Umber's voice, snide again.

"Oh, well excuse me for being flawed, sir," said Sian, without turning round. After a couple of seconds, Umber's quill started scratching again, and Sian could see that Professor Darbus was trying hard to hide her humour. Deciding that it was time to take things back on track, Sian said, "Sorry, Professor. Please continue."

Professor Darbus nodded and said, "Well, it looks like your results are all good. If you were willing to become a teacher here, I know for a fact that many of the staff would love to take you under their wing for an apprenticeship when you leave here, myself included in that. Most of us here speak very highly of you, Miss Dawson, after all, and not just because of your mother." Sian beamed at the compliment. "Tell me, do you know of the department you would like to work for once you leave?"

"No, Professor, that part I'm still figuring out, I'm afraid, but I do have a few ideas in mind."

"Well, when that time comes, come to me and let me know. And I think I speak for both of us when I say that your mother would be both pleased and proud to have you closer to her - "

"Oh, that figures, doesn't it?" said Umber's voice, more loudly than before. Sian and Professor Darbus spun round to face him. "You would love to be a teacher here, wouldn't you, Miss Dawson, just so that you could overthrow me. It's no secret that you are not particularly fond of me being here, after all ... but then again, maybe I'll still be here, under the Ministry's control, and you - "

"Forgive me for being rude, sir," said Sian, her temper close to boiling point now, "but can you do us all a favour and SHUT THE HELL UP?"

Umber looked shocked at Sian's words, but quickly covered it up as he shrieked, "How dare you speak to me in that way? I am the Headmaster of this school, High Inquisitor and Senior Undersecretary to the Minister! I do not have to take such things from a silly little girl like you - "

"Silly little girl, am I?" Sian shouted back. "Well, forgive me for being so anti-Ministry at the moment, _sir_ , but because of you and your Ministry friends, my mother, the _true_ Head of this school, has been kicked out, but I'm sure she'll be back before long."

"Oh, you think so, do you?" said Umber, rising to his feet, which Sian took to be a pathetic move on his part, seeing how short he was. "Well, I beg to differ. Your mother is nothing but mud now as far as I'm concerned, as is the rest of your family - "

 _"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"_ Sian roared, jumping to her feet, anger running through her blood like lava. "How dare you insult my family like that? You have no right to bring them into this, none at all! We are not worthless and we are not mud! It is _you_ and the rest of your precious Ministry who are mud, sir!"

She knew she would get in trouble for it, but Sian couldn't stop herself; when someone insulted her family, that was it. She saw Umber's eyes widen and his face got angry red blotches, and just as he was about to say something, the door opened, revealing Kiara ...

 **KIARA**

"Er ... sorry, Professor," I panted nervously to Professor Darbus as I closed the door. "I forgot."

"No matter, Pride-Lander," she said briskly, as Sian and Umber sat down and composed themselves. "Sit down beside Miss Dawson, Pride-Lander." As I sat, she continued to speak. "I've just about finished with Miss Dawson, who I have no difficulty believing will succeed qualifying for a teaching position." She surveyed Sian proudly, and Sian smiled back just as pleased. "And I'll even give you an excellent reference - "

"Considering who takes her on, of course," Umber sneered from his corner. Sian half-turned her head, a dirty look on her face, but she ignored him. So did Professor Darbus, whose hand shook as she shuffled the many pamphlets littering her desk.

I sat down next to Sian with my back to Umber and did my best to pretend I could not hear the familiar scratching of his quill on his clipboard.

"Well, Pride-Lander, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subject you should continue with the sixth and seventh years," said Professor Darbus. "Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Dragon Mort?"

"Er - " I said.

I found the scratching noise from behind me very distracting.

"Yes?" Professor Darbus prompted me.

"Well, I thought of, maybe, being an Auror," I mumbled.

"You need top grades for that," said Professor Darbus, extracting a small, dark leaflet from the under the mass on her desk and opening it. "They ask for a maximum of five NEWTs, and nothing under "Exceeds Expectations" grade, I see. Then you would be required to undergo a stringent series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror office. It's a difficult career path, Pride-Lander, they only take the best. In fact, I don't think anybody has been taken on in the last three years."

At that moment, Professor Umber gave a very tiny cough, as though he was trying to see how quietly he could do it. Professor Darbus ignored him, as did Sian.

"You'll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?" Professor Darbus went on, talking a little louder than before.

"Yes," I said. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, I suppose?"

"Naturally," said Professor Darbus crisply. "I would also advise - "

Professor Umber gave another cough, a little more audible this time. Sian narrowed her eyes, and Professor Darbus closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.

"I would also advise Transfiguration, because Aurors frequently need to Transfigure and Untransfigure in their work. And I ought to tell you now, Pride-Lander, that I do not accept NEWT students into my NEWT classes unless they have achieved "Exceeds Expectations" or higher at Ordinary Wizarding Level. I'd say you're averaging "Acceptable" at the moment, so you'll need to put in some good hard work before the exams to stand a chance of continuing. Then you ought to do Charms, always useful, and Potions. Yes, Pride-Lander, Potions," she added, with the merest flicker of a smile. "Poisons and antidotes are essential study for Aurors. And I must tell you that Professor Triphorm absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than "Outstanding" in their OWLs, so - "

Professor Umber gave his most pronounce cough yet.

"May I offer you a cough drop, Democritus?" Professor Darbus asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umber.

"Oh, no, thank you very much," said Umber, with that simpering laugh I hated so much. "I just wondered whether I could make the teeniest interruption, Deidre?"

"I daresay you'll find you can," said Professor Darbus through tightly gritted teeth.

"I was just wondering whether Miss Pride-Lander has _quite_ the temperament for an Auror?" said Professor Umber sweetly.

"Were you?" said Professor Darbus haughtily; Sian just rolled her eyes. "Well, Pride-Lander," she continued, as though there had been no interruption, "if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you to concentrate hard on bringing your Transfiguration and Potions up to scratch. I see Professor Winds has graded you between "Acceptable" and "Exceeds Expectations" for the last two years, so your Charmwork seems satisfactory. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, your marks have been generally high, Professor Meers in particular thought you - _are you sure you wouldn't like a cough drop, Democritus?_ "

"Oh, no need, thank you, Deidre," simpered Professor Umber, who had just coughed his loudest yet. "I was just concerned that you might not have Kiara's most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I'm quite sure I slipped in a note."

"What, this thing?" said Professor Darbus in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled out a sheet of baby-blue parchment from between the leaves of my folder. She glanced down at it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment.

"Yes, as I was saying, Pride-Lander, Professor Meers thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror - "

"Did you not understand my note, Deidre?" asked Professor Umber in honeyed tones, quite forgetting to cough.

"Of course I understood it," said Professor Darbus, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled.

"Well, then, I am confused ... I'm afraid I don't quite understand how you can give Miss Pride-Lander false hope that - "

"False hope?" repeated Professor Darbus, still refusing to look round at Professor Umber, as Sian spun round to look at him, clearly outraged. "She has achieved high marks in all her Defence Against the Dark Arts tests - "

"I'm terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Deidre, but as you will see from my note, Kiara has been achieving very poor results in her classes with me - "

"I should have made my meaning plainer," said Professor Darbus, turning at last to look at Umber directly in the eyes. "She has achieved high marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher."

Professor Umber's smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. He sat back in his chair, turned a sheet on his clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, his bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor Darbus turned back to me, her nostrils flared, her eyes burning.

"Any questions, Pride-Lander?"

"Yes," I said. "What sort of character and aptitude tests do the Ministry do on you, if you get enough NEWTs?"

"Well, you'll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth," said Professor Darbus, "perseverance and dedication, because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you've left school, so unless you're prepared to - "

"I think you'll also find," said Umber, his voice very cold now, "that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records."

" - unless you're prepared to take even more exams after Dragon Mort, you should really look into another - "

"Which means that this girl has as much chance at becoming an Auror, and Miss Dawson of becoming a teacher, as Crighton has of ever returning to this school."

"A very good chance, then," said Sian coolly. I saw Professor Darbus flash a quick smile in Sian's direction.

"Pride-Lander has a criminal record," said Umber loudly.

"Pride-Lander has been cleared of all charges," said Professor Darbus, even more loudly.

Professor Umber stood up again. He was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but his fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made his broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.

"Pride-Lander has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror, just as Miss Dawson will never become a teacher!"

"That's outrageous, sir!" Sian cried, outraged.

Professor Darbus got to her feet, too, and in this case this was a much more impressive move; she towered over Professor Umber.

"Pride-Lander," she said in ringing tones, "I will assist you to become an Auror, as well as helping you, Miss Dawson, to become a teacher, if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you both nightly, I will make sure that you will both achieve the required results!"

"The Minister for Magic will never employ Kiara Pride-Lander, just as she will never let Crighton's eldest daughter get her teaching degree!" said Umber, his voice rising furiously.

"There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Pride-Lander is ready to join the Ministry, and the Eldest Dawson Girl is ready to join this school!" shouted Professor Darbus.

"Aha!" shrieked Professor Umber, pointing a stubby finger at Darbus. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That's what you want, isn't it, Deidre Darbus? You want Cornelia Sweets replaced by Susan Crighton! You think you'll be where I am, don't you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!"

"You are raving," said Professor Darbus, superbly disdainful. "Pride-Lander, Dawson, that concludes our careers consultation."

Sian and I swung our bags over our shoulders at the same time and hurried out of the room, the two of us not daring to look at Professor Umber. We heard him and Professor Darbus continuing to shout at each other all the way back along the corridor.

When we were a floor above Darbus' office, Sian stood in front of me, a serious expression on her face. Before I could ask what she was doing, Sian said, "I hope you've thought better of what you're planning to do, Kiara. My mother sacrificed herself to keep you, my siblings and I in this school! And if you get thrown out today, it will have all been for nothing! So please, Kiara, please don't do this." she finished imploringly, just as the bell rang for the last lesson of the day.

During Divination, I didn't pay that much attention to what I was doing. A number of thoughts crossed my mind like scudding clouds ... I could just imagine Professor Darbus' reaction if I was caught trespassing in Professor Umber's office mere hours after she had vouched for me ... there was nothing to stop me simply going back to Lion-Heart Tower and hoping that some time during the next summer holidays I would have the chance to ask my parents about the scene I had witnessed in the Pensieve ... nothing, except that the thought of taking this sensible course of action made me feel as though a lead weight had dropped into my stomach ... and then there was the matter of Tanya and Geri, whose diversion was already planned, not to mention the knife my parents had given me, which was residing in my bag, along with my parents' old Invisibility Cloak.

But the fact remained that if I was caught ...

I could abandon the plan and learn to live with the memory of what my mother did on that summer's day more than twenty years ago ...

And then I remembered what my mother said in the fire upstairs in the Lion-Heart common room ...

 _You're less like me than I thought ... the risk would've been what made it fun for my friends and I ..._

But I couldn't help but ask myself: did I really want to be like my mother any more?

As soon as the bell rang at the end of class, I dashed out of the room, my heart beating like a drum as I left the classroom. I was halfway along the corridor outside when I heard the unmistakeable sounds of a diversion going off in the distance. There were screams and yells reverberating from somewhere above us; I heard the sounds of classroom doors opening, along with the scurryings of many a person's feet, murmurs and mutterings ...

And just like that, my mind was made up.

I hitched my bag more securely on to my shoulder, and set off at a run, flying up the marble staircase, weaving in and out of students who were hurrying in the opposite direction to see what all the fuss was about in the east wing.

I reached the corridor to Umber's office and found it deserted. Dashing behind a large suit of armour whose helmet creaked around to watch me, I pulled open my bag, seized my parents' knife and donned the Invisibility Cloak. I then crept slowly and carefully back out from behind the suit of armour and along the corridor until I reached Umber's door.

I inserted the blade of the magical knife into the crack around it and moved it gently up and down, and then withdrew it. There was a tiny click, and the door swung open. I ducked inside the office, closed the door quickly behind me and looked around.

Nothing was moving except the horrible puppies that were still frolicking on the wall plates above the confiscated broomsticks.

I pulled off my Cloak and, striding over to the fireplace, I found what I was looking for within seconds: a small box containing glittering Floo powder.

I crouched down in front of the empty grate, my hands shaking. I had never done this before, though I thought I knew how it must work. Sticking my head into the fireplace, I took a large pinch of powder and dropped it on to the logs stacked neatly beneath me. They exploded at once into emerald green flames.

"Pumbaa's House!" I said loudly and clearly.

It was one of the most curious experiences I have ever experienced. I have travelled by Floo powder before, of course, but then it had been my entire body that had spun around and around in the flames through the network of wizarding fireplaces that stretched over the country. That time, my knees remained firmly upon the cold floor of Umber's office, and only my head hurtled through the emerald fire ...

And then, abruptly as it had begun, the spinning stopped. Feeling rather sick and as though I was wearing an exceptionally hot muffler around my head, I opened my eyes to find I was looking up out of the kitchen fireplace at the long, wooden table, where a man sat poring over a piece of parchment.

Deciding to get his attention, I called, "Hello?"

The man jumped and looked around. It was Meers, who looked thoroughly shocked to see me.

"Kiara! What are you - what happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah," I said. "I just wondered - I mean, I just fancied a - a chat with my parents."

"I'll call them," said Meers, getting to his feet, still looking perplexed, "they went upstairs with Pumbaa to look for Kleaner, she seems to be hiding again. Do you want me to get Pumbaa, too, while I'm at it?"

I thought about it for a moment, and reasoned that it was probably best that he would be here for this, seeing as he was part of the reason as to why I was there, so I said, "Yeah, if you don't mind."

Meers nodded and I watched him hurry out of the kitchen, and I was left with nothing to look at but the chair and table legs. I wondered why neither of my parents had mentioned how very uncomfortable it was to speak out of the fire; my knees were already objecting painfully to their prolonged contact with Umber's hard stone floor.

Meers had returned with my parents and Pumbaa on his heels some moments later.

"What is it?" said my father urgently, sweeping his long mane of tawny hair out of his eyes and dropping to the ground in front of the fire, so that he and I were on a level. Mum, Pumbaa and Meers knelt down too, all three of the looking very concerned. "Are you all right? Do you need help?"

"No," I said, "it's nothing like that ... I just wanted to talk ..." I focused my eyes upon my mother's face, "about you, Mum."

They exchanged looks of great surprise, but I did not have time to feel awkward or embarrassed; my knees were becoming sorer by the second and I guessed five minutes had already passed from the start of the diversion; Geri had only guaranteed twenty. I therefore plunged immediately into the story of what I had seen in the Pensieve.

When I had finished, neither my parents, nor Pumbaa nor Meers spoke for a few moments. Then Meers said quietly, "I wouldn't like you to judge your mother on what you saw there, Kiara. She was only fifteen - "

"I'm fifteen!" I said heatedly.

"Look, Kiara," said Mum placatingly, "Triphorm and I hated each other from the moment we set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think I was everything Triphorm wanted to be - I was popular, I was good at Quidditch - good at pretty much everything. Forgive me for sounding arrogant, Kiara, but a lot of people saw me that way - and to be honest, I saw myself that way, too."

"What your mother says is true, Kiara," Daddy said. "Many people looked up to her when we were at school."

Mum smiled at him, then continued, "Anyway, Triphorm was this little oddball who was up to her eyes in the Dark Arts, and Kiara - no matter what I have said or done in the past - I have always despised the Dark Arts."

"That's all well and good," I said, "but that does not change the fact that you attacked Triphorm for no good reason, just because - well, just because _you_ implied that you were bored," I finished, looking at Pumbaa, with a slightly apologetic note in my voice.

"I'm not proud of it," said Pumbaa quickly.

"Neither of us are," said Mum in a low voice, her head bowed. My father looked at her in surprise, before he smiled slightly and put his arm around her.

Meers looked sideways at Pumbaa and my mother, then said, "Look, Kiara, what you've got to understand is that your mother and Pumbaa here were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away - "

"If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean," said Pumbaa.

Meers smiled.

"And Mum, you kept sweeping your hair back," I said in a pained voice.

Pumbaa and Meers laughed; my mother's head was still bowed, but that did not prevent me from seeing the delicate blush that was spreading across her cheeks. My father smiled into her hair.

"I'd forgotten you used to do that, Nala," said Pumbaa affectionately.

"Was she playing with the Snitch?" said Meers eagerly.

"Yeah," I said, watching uncomprehendingly as Pumbaa and Meers beamed reminiscently and my parents said nothing at all, although my mother was blushing profusely by this point. "Well ... I'm sorry to have to say this to you, Mum, but ... I thought you were a bit of an idiot."

"Of course she was a bit of an idiot!" said Pumbaa bracingly. "We were all idiots - well, your father and Moonshine, not so much," he said finally, looking at Meers.

But Meers shook his head. "Did I ever tell you to lay off Triphorm?" he said. "Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"

"Yes, well," said Mum, raising her head at last and smiling at Meers, "you managed to make us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes ... that was something ..."

"And," I said doggedly, determined to say everything that was on my mind seeing as I was there, "you kept looking over at the boys by the river, Mum, hoping they were watching you."

My mother looked embarrassed again. Pumbaa and Meers looked at her slyly and my father watched her with interest. She giggled and said, looking anywhere but at my father, "Well, I always made a fool of myself whenever your father was around, Kiara; I couldn't help showing off whenever he was around."

"How come you ended up married to her then, Daddy?" I asked him miserably. "You hated her!"

"No, I didn't hate her," my father said consolingly. "Your mother and I knew each other years before we were at Dragon Mort together, Kiara. We were best friends, but we were separated by ... something. Anyway," he went on quickly, "we met up again years later when we went to Dragon Mort, and we were happy to see each other again, when we feared we never would. But it soon became apparent that we were very different people - I was more reserved, and you mother was more ... loud. More outspoken. So we hung around in different crowds, which was fine. After your mother grew up a bit - "

"Once Nala had deflated her head a bit, you mean," said Pumbaa.

"And stopped hexing people for the fun of it," said Meers.

"Yes, only then did I start dating your mother in our seventh year."

"OK, but when you say "stopped hexing everyone", does that include Triphorm?" I said.

"Well," said Meers slowly, "Triphorm was a special case. I mean, she never lost the opportunity to curse Nala, so you couldn't really expect Nala to take that lying down, could you?"

"And you were OK with this, Daddy?"

"No, I didn't. I've only just found out about this," he said, with a disappointed glance at my mother, who was looking at the floor. He shook his head at her and looked back at me. "But, this happened a long time ago, Kiara, and if I'm glad of anything, it's that your mother didn't bring Triphorm on our dates and jinxed her right in front of me."

My mother raised her head and looked at me with apologetic eyes when she saw that I still looked unconvinced.

"Listen to me, Kiara," she said imploringly, "I'm a good person. I was an idiot at fifteen, I admit it, but so are a lot of people. I grew out of it. And your father has forgiven me, so can you?"

Seeing the sadness and guilt in her eyes, I knew I couldn't be angry with her for much longer, so I sighed heavily and said, "Yeah, OK. It's just that I never thought I'd ever find myself feeling sorry for Triphorm."

"Now you mention it," said Meers, a faint crease between his eyebrows, "how did Triphorm react when she found out you'd seen all this?"

"She told me she'd never teach me Occlumency again," I said indifferently, "like that's a big disappoint- "

"She WHAT?" shouted my parents together, which caused me to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes.

"Are you serious, Kiara?" said Meers quickly. "She's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah," I said, surprised at what I considered a great overreaction. "But it's OK, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief, to tell you the - "

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Triphorm!" said Mum forcefully, and she actually made to stand up, but my father wrenched her back down again.

"If anyone's going to tell Triphorm it will be me!" said Meers firmly. "But Kiara, first of all, you're going to go back to Triphorm and tell her that on no account is she to stop giving you lessons - when Crighton hears - "

"I can't tell her that, she'd kill me!" I said, outraged. "You didn't see her when we got out of the Pensieve."

"Kiara Nala Pride-Lander, there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!" my father said sternly. "Do you understand me? Nothing!"

"OK, OK," I said, thoroughly discomposed, not to mention annoyed. "I'll ... I'll try and say something to her ... but it won't be - "

I fell silent. I heard distant footsteps.

"Is that Kleaner coming down the stairs?"

"No," said Pumbaa, glancing behind him. "It must be somebody from your end."

My heart skipped several beats.

"I'd better go! Daddy - Mum - I love you!" I said hastily, and before I got the chance to hear what my parents said to me, I had pulled my head out of Pumbaa's kitchen fire. For a moment my head seemed to be revolving on my shoulders, then I found myself kneeling in front of Umber's fire with it firmly back on and watching the emerald flames flicker and die.

"Quickly, quickly!" I heard a wheezy voice mutter right outside the office door. "Ah, he's left it open - "

I dived for the Invisibility Cloak and had just managed to pull it back over myself when Match burst into the office. He looked absolutely delighted about something and was talking to himself feverishly as he crossed the room, pulled open a drawer in Umber's desk and began rifling through the papers inside it.

"Approval for Whipping ... Approval for Whipping ... I can do it at last ... they've had it coming to them for years ..."

He pulled out a piece of parchment, kissed it, then shuffled rapidly back out of the door, clutching it to his chest.

I leapt to my feet and making sure I had my bag and that the Invisibility Cloak was completely covering me, I wrenched open the door and hurried out of the office after Match, who was hobbling along faster than I had ever seen him go.

One landing down from Umber's office, I thought it was safe to become visible again. I pulled off the Cloak, shoved it in my bag and hurried onwards. There was a great deal of shouting and movement coming from the Entrance Hall. I ran down the marble staircase and found what looked like most of the school assembled there.

It was just like the night when Crystals had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them, I noticed, were covered in a substance that looked like sick); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd. Prominent along the corridors were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Weeves, who was bobbing overhead, was gazing down at Tanya and Geri, who were stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"So!" said Umber triumphantly. I realised he was standing just a few stairs in front of me, once more looking down upon his prey. "So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a vomit swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Tanya, looking up at him without the slightest sign of fear.

Match elbowed his way closer to Umber, almost crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmaster," he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment I had just seen him take from his desk. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting ... oh, let me do it now ..."

"Very good, Douglas," he said. "You two," he went on, gazing down at Tanya and Geri, "are about to learn what happens to wrong-doers in my school."

"You know what?" said Tanya. "I don't think we are."

She turned to her twin.

"Geri," said Tanya, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said Geri lightly.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Tanya.

"Definitely," said Geri.

And before Umber could say a word, they raised their wands and said together:

 _"Accio brooms!"_

I heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to my left, I ducked just in time. Tanya and Geri's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umber had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners; they turned left, streaked down the stairs and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Tanya told Professor Umber, swinging her leg over her broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said Geri, mounting her own.

Tanya looked around at the assembled students, as the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Vomit Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to ninety-three, Brickabon Alley - Fangs' Friendly Funnies," she said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Dragon Mort students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added Geri, pointing at Professor Umber.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umber, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Tanya and Geri kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Tanya looked across the Hall at the poltergeist bobbing on her level above the crowd.

"Give him hell from us, Weeves!"

And Weeves, who I had never seen take an order from a student before, swept her belled hat from her head and sprang to a salute as Tanya and Geri wheeled about to tumultuous applause from us students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

 **Harlow**

 **KIARA**

The story of Tanya and Geri's flight to freedom was retold so often over those next few days that I knew it would soon become the stuff of Dragon Mort legend: within a week, even those who had been eye-witnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umber on their brooms and pelt him with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them. I frequently heard students saying things like, "Honestly, some days I feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "One more lesson like that and I might just do a Fang."

Tanya and Geri had made sure nobody was likely to forget them in a hurry. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umber and Match had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually, the area was roped off and Match, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. I was certain that teachers like Darbus or Winds could have removed the swamp in an instant but, just as in the case of Tanya and Geri's Falming Fun-Works, they seemed to prefer to watch Umber struggle.

Then there were the two large broom-shaped holes in Umber's office door, through which Tanya and Geri's Cleansweeps had smashed to rejoin their mistresses. Match fitted a new door and removed my Firecracker to the dungeons where, it was rumoured, Umber had set an armed security troll to guard it. However, his troubles were far from over.

Inspired by Tanya and Geri's example, a great number of my fellow students were vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody had managed to slip a hairy-snouted Niffler into Umber's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umber when he entered and tried to gnaw the rings off his stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stink Pellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for us students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on ourselves before leaving lessons, which ensured us a supply of fresh air, even though it gave all of us the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on our heads.

Match prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were so many of them he didn't know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad was attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warner of the Snake-Eyes Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made her look as though she had been coated in cornflakes; Parry Parker, to Sian's delight, missed all his lessons the following day as he had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile, it had become clear just how many Gross Body Boxes Tanya and Geri had managed to sell before leaving Dragon Mort. Umber only had to enter his classroom for the students assembled there to spill blood out of odd places in their bodies, grow extra fingers, sprout boils on their backs or else for their skin to start peeling off. Shrieking with rage and frustration, he attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told him stubbornly that they were all suffering from "Umberitis". After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret, he was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, finger growing, boil sprouting and skin shredding students to leave his classroom in droves.

But not even the users of the Body Boxes could compete with the mistress of chaos, Weeves, who seemed to have taken Tanya's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, she soared through the school upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, toppling statues and vases; twice she shut Mrs Robbs inside a suit of armour, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. Weeves smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows; flooded the second floor when she pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever she fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umber and blowing loud raspberries every time he spoke.

None of the staff but Match seemed to be stirring themselves to help him. Indeed, a week after Tanya and Geri's departure I witnessed Professor Darbus walking right past Weeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn I heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."

To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from her sojourn in the toilet; she remained confused and disorientated and her parents were to be observed one Wednesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

"Should we say something?" said Sian in a worried voice, pressing her cheek against the Charms window so that she could see Mr and Mrs Montague marching inside. "About what happened to her? In case it helps Matron cure her?"

"Course not, she'll recover," said Chrissie indifferently.

"Anyway, more trouble for Umber, isn't it?" I said in a satisfied voice.

Chris, Chrissie and I tapped the teacups we were supposed to be charming with our wands. Mine sprouted four very short legs that could not reach the desk and wriggled pointlessly in mid-air. Chris' grew four mismatched legs, each of a different length, that were flailing madly, and Chrissie's grew four very spindly legs that hoisted the cup off the desk with great difficulty, trembled for a few seconds, then folded, causing the cup to crack into two.

 _"Repro,"_ said Sian quickly, mending Chrissie's cup with a wave of her wand. "That's all very well, but what if Montague's permanently injured?"

"Who cares?" said Chrissie irritably, while her teacup stood up drunkenly again, trembling violently at the knees. "Montague shouldn't have tried to take all those points from Lion-Heart, should she? If you want to be sorry about anyone, worry about yourself, Sian!"

"I know," Sian sighed, catching her teacup as it scampered happily away across the desk on four sturdy willow-patterned legs, and replaced it in front of her. "Dad's probably told Aunt Pam what Tanya and Geri did, which means I'm going to be getting a good grilling from her, saying that it will be my fault that Tanya and Geri left, and that I should have stopped them by grabbing the ends of their brooms, hanging on for dear life and never let go until they agreed to stay ... yeah, it'll be all my fault."

"Well, Sian, if she _does_ say that it'll be very unfair," said Chris, "for you couldn't have done anything! But I'm sure she won't, I mean, if it's really true they've got premises in Brickabon Alley, they must have been planning this for ages."

"Yeah, but that's another thing, how did they get premises?" said Chrissie, hitting her teacup so hard with her wand that it legs collapsed again and it lay twitching before her. "It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? They'll need loads of Galleons to afford the rent on a place in Brickabon Alley. She'll want to know what they've been up to, to get their hands on that sort of gold."

"Well, yes, that occurred to me, too," said Sian, allowing her teacup to jog in neat little circles around mine, whose stubby little legs were unable to reach the desktop, "I've been wondering whether Mona has persuaded them to sell stolen goods or something awful."

"She hasn't," I said curtly.

"How do you know?" said Chris, Sian and Chrissie together.

"Because - " I hesitated, but the moment to confess finally seemed to have come. There was no good to be gained in keeping silent if it meant anyone suspected that Tanya and Geri were criminals. "Because they got the gold from me. I gave them my Triwizard winnings last June."

There was a shocked silence, then Sian's teacup jogged right over the edge of the desk and smashed on the floor.

"Oh, Kiara, you _didn't_!" she said.

"Yes, I did," I said mutinously. "And I don't regret it, either. I didn't need the gold and they'll be great at running a joke shop."

"Well, on the bright side, Sian, at least you won't get blamed for why Tanya and Geri left," said Chris, trying to lighten the mood, but Sian didn't really see it that way. Chrissie, on the other hand, was ecstatic about it.

"Excellent point, Chris!" she said happily. "Hey, Kiara, can I tell Aunt Pam that you're to blame for this, not Sian?"

"Yeah, I suppose you'd better," I said dully, "'specially if she thinks they're receiving stolen cauldrons or something."

Sian said nothing at all for the rest of the lesson, but I had a shrewd suspicion that her self-restraint was bound to crack before long. Sure enough, once we had left the castle for break and were standing around in the weak May sunshine, she fixed me with a beady eye and opened her mouth with a determined air.

I interrupted her before she had even started.

"It's no good nagging me, it's done," I said firmly. "Tanya and Geri have got the gold - spent a good bit of it, too, by the sounds of it - and I can't get it back from them and I don't want to. So save your breath, Sian."

"I wasn't going to say anything about Tanya and Geri!" she said in an injured voice.

Chrissie snorted disbelievingly and Chris said, "Yeah, right," as he rolled his eyes. Sian shot them both a very dirty look.

"No, I wasn't!" she said angrily. "As a matter of fact, I was going to ask Kiara when she's going to go back to Triphorm and ask for more Occlumency lessons!"

My heart sank. Once we had exhausted the subject of Tanya and Geri's departure, which admittedly had taken many hours, Chris, Sian and Chrissie had wanted to hear news of my parents. As I had not confided in them the reason I had wanted to talk to my parents in the first place, it had been hard for me to think of what to tell them; I ended up saying, truthfully, that my parents wanted me to resume Occlumency lessons. Unfortunately my brain did not see the repercussions of this, for Sian would not let the subject drop and kept on reverting to it when I least expected it. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she seriously needs to learn when to let something drop - and also when to butt out of other people's issues.

"You can't tell me you've stopped having funny dreams," Sian said, "because Chrissie told me you were muttering in your sleep last night, and the only reason I didn't hear anything is because I'm a heavy sleeper."

I threw Chrissie a furious look. Chrissie had the grace to look ashamed of herself.

"You were only muttering a bit," she muttered apologetically. "Something about "just a bit further"."

"I dreamed I was watching you play Quidditch," I lied brutally. "I was trying to get you to reach out a bit further to grab the Quaffle."

Chrissie's cheeks turned bright pink. I felt a kind of vindictive pleasure; I had not, of course, dreamed anything of the sort.

Last night, I had once again made the journey along the Department of Mysteries corridor. I had passed through the circular room, then the room full of clicking and dancing light, until I found myself once again inside that cavernous room full of shelves on which were ranged dusty glass spheres.

I had hurried straight towards row one hundred and seven, turned left and run along it ... it had probably been then that I had spoken aloud ... _Just a bit further_ ... for I felt my conscious self struggling to wake ... and before I had reached the end of the row, I had found myself lying in bed again, gazing up at the canopy of my four-poster.

"You are _trying_ to block your mind, aren't you?" said Sian, looking beadily at me. "You are keeping going with your Occlumency?"

"Of course I am," I said, trying to sound as though this question was insulting, but not quite meeting her eye. The truth was that I was so intensely curious about what was hidden in that room full of dusty orbs, that I was quite keen for the dreams to continue (looking back now, this was a bad idea, but at the time I thought nothing of it).

The problem was that with just under a month to go until the exams and every free moment devoted to revision, my mind seemed so saturated with information when I went to bed that I found it difficult to get to sleep at all; and when I did, my overwrought brain presented me most nights with stupid dreams about the exams. I also suspected that part of my mind - the part that often spoke in Sian's voice - felt guilty on the occasions it strayed down the corridor ending in the black door, and sought to wake me before I could reach the journey's end.

"You know," said Chrissie, whose cheeks were still bright pink, "if Montague doesn't recover before Snake-Eyes play Badger-Stripes, we might be in with a chance of winning the Cup."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," I said, glad of a change of subject.

"I mean, we've won one, lost one - if Snake-Eyes lose to Badger-Stripes next Saturday - "

"Yeah, that's right," I said, losing track of what I was agreeing to. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Khan Chan walking across the courtyard, and I was determined to not look him in the eye. I then felt a hand on my shoulder; looking round, I saw it was Chris, who was watching Khan through narrowed eyes.

0000

The final match of the Quidditch season, Lion-Heart versus Raven-Wings, took place on the last weekend of May. Although Snake-Eyes had been narrowly defeated by Badger-Stripes in their last match, all of us Lion-Hearts were not daring to hope for victory, due mainly (though of course none of us said it to her) Chrissie's abysmal goalkeeping record. She, however, seemed to have found a new optimism.

"I mean, I can't get any worse, can I?" she told Chris, Sian and I grimly over breakfast on the morning of the match. "Nothing to lose now, is there?"

"You know," said Sian, as she and I walked down to the pitch a little later in the midst of a very excitable crowd, "I think Chrissie might do better without Tanya and Geri around. They never exactly gave her a lot of confidence."

Lincoln Lovedream overtook us with what appeared to be a live raven perched on top of his head.

"Oh, gosh, I forgot!" said Sian, watching the raven flapping its wings as Lincoln walked serenely past a group of cackling and pointing Snake-Eyes. "Khan will be playing, won't he?"

I had forgotten this, so I merely grunted.

We had found seats in the topmost row of the stands. It was a fine, clear day; Chrissie could not wish for better, and I found myself hoping against hope that Chrissie would not give the Snake-Eyes cause for more rousing choruses of "Dawson is our Queen".

Leah Jones, who had been very dispirited since Tanya and Geri had left, was commentating as usual. As teams zoomed out on to the pitch, she named the players with something less than her usual gusto.

" ... Bradley ... Davis ... Chan," she said, and I felt my stomach perform, less of a backflip, more of a feeble lurch as Khan walked out on to the pitch, his shiny black hair rippling in the slight breeze. I was not sure what I wanted to happen any more, except that I could not stand any more rows. Even the sight of him chatting animatedly to Rita Davis as they prepared to mount their brooms caused me only a slight twinge of jealousy, and also made me feel a little bit hurt. Sian put a comforting arm around me and I leaned into her, grateful for the comfort.

"And they're off!" said Leah. "And Davis takes the Quaffle immediately, Raven-Wings Captain Davis with the Quaffle, she dodges Johnstone, she dodges Ball, she dodges Spinns as well ... she's going straight for goal! She's going to shoot and - and - " Leah swore very loudly. "And she's scored."

Sian and I groaned with the rest of the Lion-Hearts. Predictably, horribly, the Snake-Eyes on the other side of the stands began to sing:

 _"Dawson cannot save a thing,_

 _Her saving is so unclean ..."_

"Kiara," said a hoarse voice in my ear. "Sian ..."

I looked round and saw Mina's enormous smooth face sticking between the seats. Apparently, she had squeezed her way all along the row behind, for the first- and second-years she had just past had a ruffled, flattened look about them. For some reason, Mina bent down as though anxious not to be seen, though she was still at least four feet taller than everybody else.

"Listen," she whispered, "can yeh come with me? Now? While ev'ryone's watchin' the match?"

"Er ... can't it wait, Mina?" I asked. "'Til the match is over?"

"No," said Mina. "No, it's gotta be now ... while ev'ryone's lookin' the other way ... please?"

Mina's nose was gently dripping blood. Her eyes were both blackened. I had not seen her this close-up since her return to the school; she looked completely woebegone.

"Course," I said at once, "course we'll come."

Sian and I edged back along our row of seats, causing much grumbling among the students who had to stand up for us. The people in Mina's row were not complaining, merely attempting to make themselves as small as possible.

"I 'ppreciate this, you two, I really do," said Mina as we reached the stairs. She kept looking around nervously as we descended towards the lawn below. "I jus' hope he doesn' notice us goin'."

"You mean Umber?" I said. "He won't, he's got his whole Inquisitorial Squad with him, didn't you see? He must be expecting trouble at the match."

"Yeah, well, a bit o' trouble wouldn' hurt," said Mina, pausing to peer around the edge of the stands to make sure the stretch of lawn between there and her cabin was deserted. "Give us more time."

"What is it, Mina?" said Sian, looking up at her with a concerned expression on her face as we hurried across the grass towards the edge of the Forest.

"Yeh - yeh'll see in a mo'," said Mina, looking over her shoulder as a great roar rose from the stands behind us. "Hey - did someone jus' score?"

"It'll be Raven-Wings," I said heavily.

"Good ... good ..." said Mina distractedly. "Tha's good ..."

We had to jog to keep up with her as she strode across the lawn, looking around with every other step. When we reached her cabin, Sian turned automatically left towards the front door. Mina, however, walked straight past it into the shade of the trees on the outermost edge of the Forest, where she picked up a crossbow that was leaning against a tree. When she realised we were no longer with her, she turned.

"We're goin' in here," she said, jerking her smooth head behind her.

"Into the Forest?" said Sian, perplexed.

"Yeah," said Mina. "C'mon now, quick, before we're spotted!"

Sian and I looked at each other, then ducked into the cover of the trees behind Mina, who was already striding away from us into the green gloom, her crossbow over her arm. Sian and I ran to catch up with her.

"Mina, why are you armed?" I said.

"Jus' a precaution," said Mina, shrugging her massive shoulders.

"You didn't bring your crossbow the day you showed us the Thestrals," said Sian, her voice wavering slightly.

"Nah, well, we weren' goin' in so far then," said Mina. "An' anyway, tha' was before Fauna left the Forest, wasn' it?"

"Why does Fauna leaving make a difference?" asked Sian curiously.

"'Cause the other centaurs are good an' riled at me, tha's why," said Mina quietly, glancing around. "They used ter be - well, yeh couldn' call 'em friendly - but we got on all righ'. Kept 'emselves to 'emselves, bu' always turned up if I wanted a word. Not any more."

She sighed deeply.

"Fauna said they're angry because she went to work for Crighton," I said, tripping on a protruding root because I was busy watching Mina's profile.

"Yeah," said Mina heavily. "Well, angry doesn' cover it. Ruddy livid. If I hadn' stepped in, I reckon they'd've kicked Fauna ter death - "

"They attacked her?" said Sian, sounding shocked.

"Yep," said Mina gruffly, forcing her way through several low-hanging branches. "She had half the herd on her."

"And you stopped it?" I said, amazed and impressed. "By yourself?"

"Course I did, couldn't stand by an' watch 'em kill 'er, could I?" said Mina. "Luckily I was passin', really ... an' I'd've thought Fauna mighta remembered tha' before she started sendin' me stupid warnin's!" she added hotly and unexpectedly.

Sian and I looked at each other, startled, but Mina, scowling, did not elaborate.

"Anyway," she said, breathing a little more heavily than usual, "since then the other centaurs've bin livid with me, an' the trouble is they've got a lot of influence in the Forest ... cleverest creatures in here."

"Is that why we're here, Mina?" asked Sian. "The centaurs?"

"Ah, no," said Mina, shaking her head dismissively, "no, it's not them. Well, o' course, they could complicate the problem, yeah ... but yeh'll see what I mean in a bit ..."

On this incomprehensible note she fell silent and a forged a little ahead, taking one stride for every three of ours, so that we had great trouble keeping up with her.

The path became increasingly overgrown and the trees grew so closely together as we walked further and further into the Forest that it was as dark as dusk. We were soon a long way past the clearing where Mina had showed us the Thestrals, but I felt no sense of unease until Mina stepped unexpectedly off the path and began wending her way in and out of trees towards the dark heart of the Forest.

"Mina!" I said, fighting my way through thickly knotted brambles, over which Mina had stepped with ease, and remembering very vividly what had happened to me on the other occasion I had stepped off the Forest path. "Where are we going?"

"Bit further," said Mina over her shoulder. "C'mon, Kiara ... we need ter keep together now."

It was a great struggle to keep up with Mina, what with branches and thickets of thorn through which Mina marches as easily as if they were cobwebs, but which snagged mine and Sian's robes, frequently entangling us so severely that we had to stop for minutes at a time to free ourselves. My arms and legs were soon covered in small cuts and scratches. We were so deep in the Forest now that sometimes all I could see of Mina in the gloom was a massive dark shape ahead of me. Any sound seemed threatening in the muffled silence. The breaking of a twig echoed loudly and the tiniest rustle of movement, even though it might have been made by an innocent sparrow, caused me to peer through the gloom for a culprit. It occurred to me that I had never managed to get this far into the Forest without meeting some kind of creature; their absence struck me as rather ominous.

"Mina, would it be all right if we lit our wands," said Sian quietly.

"Er ... all righ'," Mina whispered back. "In fact - "

She stopped suddenly and turned around; Sian walked right into her and was knocked over backwards. I caught her just before she hit the Forest floor.

"Maybe we bes' jus' stop fer a momen', so I can ... fill yeh in," said Mina. "Before we ge' there, like."

"Good!" said Sian, as I set her back on her feet. We both murmured _"Lumos!"_ and our wand-tips ignited. Mina's face swam through the gloom by the light of the two wavering wand beams and I saw again that she looked nervous and sad.

"Righ'," said Mina. "Well ... see ... the thing is ..."

She took a great breath.

"Well, there's a good chance I'm goin' ter be gettin' the sack any day now," she said.

Sian and I looked at each other, then back at her.

"But you've lasted this long - " Sian said tentatively. "What makes you think - "

"Umber thinks it was me that put tha' Niffler in his office."

"And was it?" I said, before I could stop myself.

"No, it ruddy well wasn'!" said Mina indignantly. "On'y anythin' ter do with magical creatures an' he thinks it's got somethin' ter do with me. Yeh know he's bin lookin' fer a chance ter get rid o' me ever since I got back. I don' wan' ter go, o' course, but if it wasn' fer ... well ... the special circumstances I'm abou' ter explain to yeh, I'd leave righ' now, before he's go' the chance ter do it in front o' the whole school, like he did with Crystals."

Sian and I both made noises of protest, but Mina overrode us with a wave of one of her enormous hands.

"It's not the end o' the world, I'll be able ter help Crighton once I'm outta here, I can be useful ter the Order. An' you lot'll have Smutty-Stave, yeh'll - yeh'll get through yer exams fine ..."

Her voice trembled and broke.

"Don' worry abou' me," she added hastily, as Sian made to pat her arm. She pulled out an enormous spotted handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and mopped her eyes with it. "Look, I wouldn' be tellin' yer this at all if I didn' have ter. See, if I go ... well, I can' leave withou' ... withou' tellin' someone ... because I'll - I'll need yeh two ter helo me. An' Chris an' Chrissie, if they're willin'."

"Of course we'll help you," I said at once. "What do you want us to do?"

Mina gave a great sniff and patted me wordlessly on the shoulder with such force I was knocked sideways into a tree.

"I knew yeh'd say yes," said Mina into her handkerchief, "but I won' ... never ... forget ... well ... c'mon ... jus' a little bit further through here ... watch yerselves, now, there's nettles ..."

We walked on in silence for another fifteen minutes; I had opened my mouth to ask how much further we had to go when Mina threw out her right arm to signal that we should stop.

"Really easy," she said softly. "Very quiet, now ..."

We crept forwards and I saw that we were facing a large, smooth mound of earth nearly as tall as Mina that I thought, with a jolt of dread, was sure to be the lair of some enormous animal. Trees had been ripped up at the roots all around the mound, so that it stood on a bare patch of ground surrounded by heaps of trunks and boughs that formed a kind of fence or barricade, behind which Sian, Mina and I stood.

"Sleepin'," breathed Mina.

Sure enough, I heard distant, rhythmic rumbling that sounded like a pair of enormous lungs at work. I glanced sideways at Sian, who was gazing at the mound with her mouth slightly open. For once, she looked utterly terrified.

"Mina," said Sian in a whisper barely audible over the sound of the sleeping creature, "who is she?"

I found this an odd question ... " _What_ is it?" was the one I had been planning on asking.

"Mina, you told us - " said Sian, her wand now shaking in her hand, "you told us none of them wanted to come!"

I looked from her to Mina and then, as realisation hit me, I looked back at the mound with a small gasp of horror.

The great mound of earth, on which Sian, Mina and I could have easily stood, was moving slowly up and down in time with the deep, grunting breathing. It was not a mound at all. It was the curved back of what was clearly -

"Well - no - she didn' want ter come," said Mina, sounding desperate. "But I had ter bring her, Sian, I had ter!"

"But why?" asked Sian, who sounded as though she was trying to hold back the tears. "Why - what - oh, _Mina_!"

"I knew if I jus' got her back," said Mina, sounding close to tears herself, "an' - an' taught her a few manners - I'd be able ter take her outside an' show ev'ryone she's harmless!"

"Harmless!" said Sian shrilly, and Mina made frantic hushing noises with her hands as the enormous creature before us grunted loudly and shifted in its sleep. "She's been hurting you all this time, hasn't she? That's why you've had all the injuries!"

"She don' know her own strength!" said Mina earnestly. "An' she's gettin' better, she's not fightin' so much any more - "

"So this is why it took you two months to get home!" said Sian distractedly. "Oh, Mina, why did you bring her back if she didn't want to come? Wouldn't she have been happier with her own people?"

"They were bullyin' her, Sian, 'cause she's so small!" said Mina.

"Small?" said Sian. _"Small?"_

"Sian, I couldn' leave her," said Mina, tears now trickling down her bruised face. "See - she's my sister!"

Sian simply stared at her, her mouth open.

"Mina, when you say "sister"," I said slowly, "do you mean - ?"

"well - half-sister," amended Mina. "Turns out me father took up with another giantess when he left me mum, an' he went and had Harlow here - "

"Harlow?" I said.

"Yeah ... well, that's what it sounds like when she says her name," said Mina anxiously. "She don' speak a lot of English ... I've bin tryin' ter teach her ... anyway, he don' seem ter have liked her much more'n he liked me. See, with giants, what counts is producin' good big kids, and she's always been a bit on the runty side fer a giant - on'y sixteen foot - "

"Oh, yes, tiny!" said Sian, with a kind of hysterical sarcasm. "Absolutely miniscule!"

"She was bein' kicked aroun' by all o' them - I jus' couldn' leave her - "

"Did Monsieur Legrand want to bring her back?" I asked.

"He - well, he could see it was right importan' ter me," said Mina, twisting her enormous hands. "Bu - bu' he's got a bit tired o' her after a while, I must admit ... so we split up on the journey home ... he promised not ter tell anyone, though ..."

"How on earth did you get her back without anyone noticing?" I said.

"Well, tha's why it took so long, see," said Mina. "could on'y travel by nigh' an' through wild country an' stuff. Course, she covers the ground pretty well when she wants ter, but she kep' wantin' ter go back."

"Oh, Mina, why on earth didn't you let her?" said Sian, flopping down on to a ripped up tree and burying her face in her hands. "What do you think you're going to do with a violent giantess who doesn't even want to be here?"

"Well, now - "violent" - tha's a bit harsh," said Mina, still twisting her hands agitatedly. "I'll admit she mighta taken a couple o' swings at me when she's bin in a bad mood, but she's gettin' better, loads better, settlin' down well."

"What are those two ropes for, then?" I asked.

I had just noticed ropes thick as saplings stretching from around the trunks of the largest nearby trees towards the place where Harlow lay curled up on the ground with her back to us.

"You have to keep her tied up?" said Sian faintly.

"Well ... yeah ..." said Mina, looking anxious. "See - it's like I say - she doesn' really know 'er own strength."

That's when I understood why there had been such a suspicious lack of any other living creature in that part of the Forest.

"So, what is it you want Chris, Kiara, Chrissie and I to do?" Sian asked apprehensively.

"Look after her," said Mina croakily. "After I'm gone."

Sian and I exchanged miserable looks; I was uncomfortably aware that I had already promised Mina that I would do whatever she asked.

"What - what does that involve, exactly?" Sian enquired.

"Not food or anythin'!" said Mina eagerly. "She can get her own food, no problem. Birds an' deer an' stuff ... no, it's company she needs. If I jus' knew she was carryin' on tryin' ter help her a bit ... teachin' her, yeh know."

I said nothing, but turned to look back at the gigantic form lying asleep on the ground in front of us. Unlike Mina, who simply looked like an oversized human, Harlow looked strangely misshapen. What I had taken to be a vast mossy boulder to the left of the great earthen mound I recognised as Harlow's head. It was much larger in proportion to the body than a human head, and was almost perfectly round and covered with tightly curling, long, wild hair the colour of bracken. The rim of a single large fleshy ear was visible on tip of the head, which seemed to sit directly upon the shoulders with little or no neck in between. The back, under what looked like a dirty brownish smock comprised of animal skins sewn roughly together, was very broad; and as Harlow slept, it seemed to strain a little at the rough edges of the skins. The legs were curled up under the body. I could see the sides of enormous, filthy, bare feet, large as sledges, resting on top of the other on the earthy floor.

"You want us to teach her," I said in a hollow voice. I then understood what Fauna's warning had meant. _Her attempt is not working. She would do better to abandon it._ Of course, the other creatures who lived in the Forest would have heard Mina's fruitless attempts to teach Harlow English.

"Yeah - even if yeh jus' talk ter her a bit," said Mina hopefully. "'Cause I reckon, if she can talk ter people, she'll understand more that we all like 'er, an' want her ter stay."

I looked at Sian, who peered back at me from between the fingers over her face.

"Kind of makes you wish we had Norberta back, doesn't it?" I said, and she gave a very shaky laugh.

"Yeh'll do it, then?" said Mina, who did not seem to have caught what I had just said.

"Well ..." I said, already bound by my promise. "We'll try, Mina."

"I knew I could count on yeh, Kiara," said Mina, beaming in a very watery way and dabbing at her face with her handkerchief again. "An' I don' wan' yeh ter put yerself out too much, like ... I know yeh've got exams ... if yeh could jus' nip down in yer Invisibility Cloak maybe once a week an' have a little chat with 'er. I'll wake 'er up, then - introduce yeh - "

"Wha - no!" said Sian, jumping up. "Mina, no, don't wake her, really, we don't need - "

But Mina had already stepped over the great tree trunk in front of us and proceeded towards Harlow. When she was about ten feet away, she lifted a long, broken bough from the ground, smiled reassuringly over her shoulder at Sian and I, then poked Harlow hard in the middle of her back with the end of the bough.

The giantess gave a roar that echoed around the silent Forest; birds in the treetops overhead rose twittering from their perches and soared away. In front of Sian and I, meanwhile, the gigantic Harlow was rising from the ground, which shuddered as she placed an enormous hand upon it to push herself on to her knees. She turned her head to see who and what had disturbed her.

"All righ', Harly?" said Mina, in a would-be cheery voice, backing away with the long bough raised, ready to poke Harlow again. "Had a nice sleep, eh?"

Sian and I retreated as far as we could while still keeping the giantess within our sights. Harlow knelt between two trees she had not yet uprooted. We looked up into her startlingly huge face that resembled a grey full moon swimming in the gloom of the clearing. It was as though the features had been hewn on to a great stone ball. The nose was stubby and shapeless, the mouth lopsided and full of misshapen yellow teeth the size of half-bricks; the eyes, small by giant standards, were a muddy-greenish brown and were half-gummed together with sleep. Harlow raised dirty knuckles, each as big as a cricket ball, to her eyes, rubbed vigorously, then, without warning, pushed herself to her feet with surprising speed and agility.

"Oh my!" I heard Sian breathe, her voice trembling slightly beside me.

The trees to which the other ends of the ropes around Harlow's wrists and ankles were attached creaked ominously. She was, as Mina had said, at least sixteen feet tall. Gazing blearily around, Harlow reached out a hand the size of a beach umbrella, seized a bird's nest from the upper branches of a towering pine and turned it upside-down with a roar of apparent displeasure that there was no bird in it; eggs fell like grenades towards the ground and Mina threw her arms over her head to protect herself.

"Anyway, Harly," shouted Mina, looking up apprehensively in case of further falling eggs, "I've brought some friends ter meet yeh. Remember, I told yeh I might? Remember, when I said I might have ter go on a little trip an' leave them ter look after yeh fer a bit? Remember, Harly?"

But Harlow merely gave another low roar; it was hard to say whether she was listening to Mina or whether she even recognised the sounds Mina was making as speech. She had seized the top of the pinetree and was pulling it towards her, evidently for the simple pleasure of seeing how far it would spring back when she let it go.

"Now, Harly, don' do that!" shouted Mina. "Tha's how you ended up pullin' up the others - "

And sure enough, I saw the earth around the tree's roots beginning to crack; next to me, Sian winced as though in pain at the shot, which I found rather odd.

"I got company for yeh!" Mina shouted. "Company, see! Look down, yeh big buffoon, I brought yeh some friends!"

"Oh, Mina, don't," Sian moaned, but Mina had already raised the bough again and gave Harlow's knee a sharp poke.

The giantess let go of the top of the tree, which swayed alarmingly and deluged Mina with a rain of pine needles, and looked down.

 _"This,"_ said Mina, hastening over to where Sian and I stood, "is Kiara, Harlow! Kiara Pride-Lander! She migh' be comin' ter visit yeh if I have ter go away, understand?"

The giantess had only just realised that Sian and I were there. We watched, in great trepidation, as she lowered her huge boulder of a head so that she could peer blearily at us.

"An' this is Sian, see? Sian, Harly! An' she's gonna be comin' an' all! Isn' tha' nice? Eh? Two friends fer yeh ter - HARLY, NO!"

Harlow's hand had shot out of nowhere towards Sian; I seized her and pulled her backwards behind the tree, so that Harlow's fist scraped the trunk but closed on thin air.

"BAD GIRL, HARLY!" we heard Mina yelling, as Sian stood next to me, shaking like a leaf. "VERY BAD GIRL! YEH DON' GRAB - OUCH!"

I poked my head out from around the trunk and saw Mina lying on her back, her hand over her nose. Harlow, apparently losing interest, had straightened up and was again engaged in pulling back the pine as far as it would go.

"Righ'," said Mina thickly, getting up with one hand pinching her bleeding nose and the other grasping her crossbow, "well ... there yeh are ... yeh've met her an' - an' now she'll know yeh when yeh come back. Yeah ... well ..."

She looked back at Harlow, who was pulling back the pine with an expression of detached pleasure on her boulderish face; the roots were creaking as she ripped them away from the ground. Next to me, Sian had an expression of pain mixed with shock as she watched Harly rip up the tree. I knew that she was the Earth Guardian - and then a thought hit me: could Sian hear the earth as it died?

"Well, I reckon tha's enough fer one day," said Mina. "We'll - er - we'll go back now, shall we?"

Sian and I nodded. Mina shouldered her crossbow again and, still pinching her nose, led the way back into the trees.

None of us spoke for a while, not even when we heard the distant crash that meant Harlow had pulled over the pine tree at last; Sian's face crumpled with pain at the sound, and it was also pale. I could not think of a single thing to say. What on earth was going to happen when somebody found out that Mina had hidden Harlow in the Black Forest? And I had promised that Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I would continue Mina's totally pointless attempts to civilise the giantess. How could Mina, even with her immense capacity to delude herself that fanged monsters are lovably harmless, fool herself that Harlow would ever be fit to mix with humans?

"Hold it," said Mina abruptly, just as Sian gently waved aside a patch of knotgrass behind her. She pulled an arrow out of the quiver over her shoulder and fitted it into the crossbow. Sian and I raised our wands; now that we had stopped walking, we, too, could hear movement close by.

"Oh, blimey," said Mina quietly.

"I thought we told you, Mina," said a calm steady voice, "that you are no longer welcome here?"

A woman's torso, covered in animal skins, seemed for an instant to be floating towards us through the dappled green half-light; then we saw that her waist joined smoothly into a horse's chestnut body. The centaur had a proud, high-cheekboned face and long black hair. Like Mina, she was armed; a quiverful of arrows and a longbow were slung over her shoulders.

"How are yeh, Madara?" said Mina warily.

The trees behind the centaur ruffled and four or five more centaurs emerged behind her. I recognised the black-bodied Basha, whom I had met nearly four years ago on the same night I met Fauna. Basha gave no sign that she had ever seen me before.

"So," she said, with a nasty inflection in her voice, before turning immediately to Madara. "We agreed, I think, what we would do if this human ever showed her face in the Forest again?"

" "This human" now, am I?" said Mina testily. "Jus' fer stoppin' all of yeh committin' murder?"

"You ought not to have meddled, Mina," said Madara. "Our ways are not yours, nor are our laws. Fauna has betrayed and dishonoured us."

"I dunno how yeh work that out," said Mina impatiently. "She's done nothin' except help Susan Crighton - "

"Fauna has entered into servitude with humans," said a grey centaur with a hard, deeply lined face.

 _"Servitude!"_ said Mina scathingly. "She's doin' Crighton a favour is all - "

"She is peddling our knowledge and secrets among humans," said Madara quietly. "There can be no return from such disgrace."

"If yeh say so," said Mina, shrugging, "but personally I think yeh're makin' a big mistake - "

"As are you, human," said Basha, "coming back into our Forest when we warned you - "

"Now, yeh listen ter me," said Mina angrily. "I'll have less of the "our" Forest, if it's all the same ter yeh. It's not up ter yeh who comes an' goes in here - "

"No more is it up to you, Mina," said Madara smoothly. "I shall let you pass today because you are accompanied by your young - "

"They're not hers!" interrupted Basha contemptuously. "Students, Madara, from up at the school! They have probably already profited from the traitor Fauna's teachings!"

"Nevertheless," said Madara calmly, "the slaughter of foals is a terrible crime - we do not touch the innocent. Today, Mina, you shall pass. Henceforth, stay away from this place. You forfeited the friendship of the centaurs when you helped the traitor Fauna escape us."

"I won' be kept outta the Fores' by a bunch o' old mules like yeh!" said Mina loudly.

"Mina," said Sian in a high-pitched voice that conveyed warning, as both Basha and the grey centaur pawed at the ground, "I think it best if we leave now!"

Mina moved forwards, but her crossbow was still raised and her eyes were still fixed threateningly upon Madara.

"We know what you are keeping in the Forest, Mina!" Madara called after us, as the centaurs slipped out of sight. "And our tolerance is waning!"

Mina turned and gave every appearance of wanting to walk straight back to Madara.

"Yeh'll tolerate her as long as she's here, it's as much her Forest as yours!" she yelled, as Sian and I both pushed with all our might against Mina in an effort to keep her moving forwards. Still scowling, she looked down, her expression changing to mild surprise at the sight of us both pushing her; she seemed not to have felt it.

"Calm down, you two," she said, turning to walk on while we panted along behind her. "Ruddy old mules, though, eh?"

"Mina," said Sian breathlessly, carefully waving aside the patch of nettles we had passed on our way there with her free hand, "if the centaurs don't want humans in the Forest, it doesn't really look as though Kiara and I will be able - "

"Ah, you heard what they said," said Mina dismissively, "they wouldn't hurt foals - I mean, kids. Anyway, we can' let ourselves be pushed aroun' by that lot."

"Nice try," I mumbled to Sian, who looked crestfallen.

At last we rejoined the path and, within another ten minutes, the trees began to thin; we were able to see patches of clear blue sky again and, in the distance, the definite sounds of cheering and shouting.

"Was that another goal?" asked Mina, pausing in the shelter of the trees as the Quidditch stadium came into view. "Or d'yeh reckon the match is over?"

"I don't know," said Sian miserably. I was grateful to Sian when we were in the Forest, for if she had not had the power of Earth on her side, then we would probably have both come out of there with plenty more scratches, plenty more tears in our robes and a few twigs in our hair.

"I reckon it's over, yeh know!" said Mina, still squinting towards the stadium. "Look - there's people comin' out already - if yeh two hurry yeh'll be able ter blend in with the crowd and no one'll know yeh weren't there!"

"Good idea," I said. "Well ... see you later, then, Mina."

"I don't believe her," said Sian in a very unsteady voice, the moment we were out of earshot of Mina. "I don't believe her. I _really_ don't believe her."

"Calm down," I said.

"Calm down!" she said feverishly. "A giantess! A giantess in the Forest! And we're supposed to give her English lessons! Always assuming, of course, we can get past the herd of murderous centaurs on the way in and out! I - don't - _believe_ \- her!"

"We haven't got to do anything yet!" I tried to reassure her in a quiet voice, as we joined a stream of jabbering Badger-Stripes heading back towards the castle. "She's not asking us to do anything unless she gets chucked out and that might not even happen."

"Oh, come off it, Kiara!" said Sian angrily, stopping dead in her tracks so that people behind her had to swerve to avoid her. "Of course she's going to be chucked out and, to be perfectly honest - I'm sorry, Ma, but - after what we've just seen, who can blame Umber?"

There was a pause in which I glared at her, and her eyes unnarrowed as remorse came over her.

"You didn't mean that," I said quietly.

"No ... well ... all right ... I didn't," she said, turning her face away. "But why does she make life so difficult for herself - for _us_?"

"I dunno - "

 _"Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Her saving is so clean,_

 _Dawson is our Queen."_

"And I'd wish they'd stop singing that stupid song," said Sian miserably, "haven't they gloated enough?"

A great tide of students were moving up the sloping lawns from the pitch.

"Oh, let's get in before we have to face the Snake-Eyes," said Sian.

 _"Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Her saving is so clean,_

 _That's why Lion-Heart's all sing:_

 _Dawson is our Queen."_

"Sian ..." I said slowly.

The song grew louder, but it was not issuing from a crowd of green-and-silver-clad Snake-Eyes, but from a mass of red and gold moving slowly towards the castle, bearing a solitary figure upon its many shoulders.

 _"Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Dawson is our Queen,_

 _Her saving is so clean,_

 _Dawson is our Queen."_

"No?" said Sian in a hushed voice.

"YES!" I said loudly.

"KIARA! SIAN!" yelled Chrissie, waving the silver Quidditch Cup in the air and looking quite beside herself. "WE DID IT! WE WON!"

Chris looked at us, a mixed expression of shock, happiness and amusement on his face. Sian and I beamed at the pair of them as they passed. There was a scrum at the door of the castle and Chrissie's head got rather badly bumped on the lintel, but nobody seemed to want to put her down. Still singing, the crowd squeezed itself into the Entrance Hall and out of sight. Sian and I watched them go, beaming, until the last echoing strains of "Dawson is our Queen" died away. Then we turned to each other, our smiles fading.

"We'll save our news 'til tomorrow, shall we?" I said.

"Yes, all right," said Sian wearily. "I'm not in any hurry."

We climbed the steps together. At the front doors we both instinctively looked back at the Black Forest. I was not sure whether or not it was my imagination, but I rather thought I saw a small cloud of birds erupting into the air over the tree tops in the distance, almost as though the tree in which they had been nesting had just been pulled up by the roots.

 **AN: Hello, readers. I just want to tell you something that I forgot to tell you a couple of chapters back for some reason or other, which is that I finished writing the sixth book in the series a couple of weeks back and have now started on the seventh. Hooray! So you should be expecting to see the sixth book by the middle of next month or the start of April, unless something goes wrong and I'm held back from writing.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

 **OWLs**

 **KIARA**

Chrissie's euphoria at helping Lion-Heart scrape the Quidditch Cup was such that she and Chris couldn't settle to anything the next day. All they wanted to do was talk about the match, so Sian and I found it very difficult to find an opening in which to talk about Harlow. Not that either of us tried very hard; neither one of us was keen to be the one to bring Chris and Chrissie back to reality in quite such a brutal fashion. As it was another fine, warm day, we persuaded them to join us in revising under the beech tree at the edge of the river, where we had less chance of being overheard than in the common room. Chris and Chrissie were not particularly keen on this idea at first, Chrissie especially - she thoroughly enjoyed being patted on the back by every Lion-Heart who walked past her chair, not to mention the occasional outbursts of "Dawson is our Queen" - but after a while she and Chris both agreed that some fresh air might do them good, even though Chris did want to spend time with Dena, but Sian and I persuaded him to come with us. Chris was suspicious about it, but he shrugged, waved to Dena and followed Sian, Chrissie and I down to the river.

We spread our books out in the shade of the beech tree and sat down while Chrissie talked us through her first save of the match for what felt like the seventh time.

"Well, I'd already let in that goal of Davis', so I wasn't feeling all that confident, but I dunno, when Babcock came towards me, just out of nowhere, I thought - _you can do this_! And I had about a second to decide which way to fly, you know, because she looked like she was aiming for the right goalhoop - my right, obviously, her left - but I had a funny feeling that she was feinting, and so I took the chance and flew left - her right, I mean - and - well - you saw what happened," she concluded modestly, sweeping her hair back unnecessarily so that it looked interestingly windswept and glancing around to see whether the people nearest to us - a bunch of gossiping third-year Badger-Stripes - had heard her. "And then, when Chamber came at me about five minutes later - What?" Chrissie asked, having stopped mid-sentence at the look on my face. "Why are you grinning?"

"I'm not," I said quickly, looking down at my Transfiguration notes while trying to maintain a straight face. The truth was that Chrissie had just reminded me forcibly of another Lion-Heart Quidditch player who had once sat sweeping her hair back under that very tree. "I'm just glad we won, that's all."

"Yeah," said Chris slowly, savouring the words, " _we won._ Did you see the look on Chan's face when I got the Snitch right out from under his nose?"

"I suppose he cried, did he?" I said bitterly.

"Well, yeah - more out of temper, than anything, though ..." Chris frowned slightly, as did Chrissie. "But you saw him chuck his broom away when he got back to the ground, didn't you?"

"Er - " I said.

"Well, actually ... no, Chris, Chrissie," said Sian with a heavy sigh, putting down her book and looking at them both apologetically. "As a matter of fact, the only bit of the match Kiara and I saw was Davis' first goal."

Chrissie's swept back hair seemed to wilt with disappointment. "You didn't watch?" she said faintly, looking from Sian to myself, and back again. "You didn't see me make any of those saves?"

"Well - no," said Sian, stretching out a placatory hand towards her sister. "But Chris, Chrissie, we didn't want to leave - we had to!"

"Yeah," said Chris, his eyes narrowed, as Chrissie's face went rather red. "How come?"

"It was Mina," I said. "She decided to tell us why she's been covered in injuries ever since she got back from the giants. She wanted us to go into the Forest with her, we had no choice, you know how she gets. Anyway ..."

The story was told in five minutes, by the end of which Chris and Chrissie's shared indignation had been replaced by looks of total incredulity.

 _"She brought one back and hid it in the Forest?"_

"Yep," I said grimly.

"No," said Chrissie, as though by saying this she could make it untrue. "No, she can't have."

"You're bluffing," said Chris, grinning slightly, looking from myself to Sian. "You're bluffing ..."

"I'm afraid I'm not, Chris," said Sian sadly. "Harlow's about sixteen feet tall, enjoys ripping up twenty-foot pine trees, and tries to grab anything that she thinks she can grab ..." Sian glared at the ground, "including me."

Chrissie gave a nervous laugh, and Chris looked pale.

"And Mina wants us to ...?"

"Teach her English, yeah," I said.

"she's lost her mind," said Chrissie in an almost awed voice.

"Yes," said Sian irritably, turning a page of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ and glaring at a series of diagrams showing an owl turning into a pair of opera glasses. "Yes, I'm starting to think she has. But unfortunately, she made Kiara and me promise."

"Well, you're just going to have to break your promise, that's all," said Chris firmly. "I mean, come on ... we've got exams and we're about this far - " he held up his hand to show thumb and forefinger from almost touching " - from being chucked out as it is now that Ma's gone. And anyway ... remember Norberta? Remember Aratota? Have we ever come off better for mixing with any of Mina's monster mates?"

"I know, it's just that - we promised," said Sian, shrugging slightly and looking apologetically at Chris and Chrissie.

Chrissie swept back her hair again, looking preoccupied.

"Well," she sighed, "Mina hasn't been sacked yet, has she? She's hung on this long, maybe she'll hang on 'til the end of term and we won't have to go near Harlow at all."

0000

The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling river; the satin green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze. June had arrived, but to us fifth-years this meant only one thing: our OWLs were upon us at last.

Our teachers no longer set us homework; lessons were devoted to revising those topics the teachers thought most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drove nearly everything but the OWLs from my mind, though I did wonder occasionally during Potions lessons whether Meers had ever told Triphorm that she must continue giving me Occlumency tuition. If he had, then Triphorm had ignored Meers thoroughly as she was ignoring me. This suited me very well; I was quite busy and tense enough without extra classes with Triphorm, and to my relief Sian was much too preoccupied in those days to badger me about Occlumency; she spent a lot of time muttering to herself, and had not laid out any clothes for days.

She was not the only person acting oddly as the OWLs drew steadily nearer; Emily Mack had developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices.

"How many hours d'you think you're doing a day?" she demanded of Chrissie and I as we queued outside Herbology, a manic gleam in her eyes.

"I dunno," said Chrissie. "A few."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I s'pose," said Chrissie, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," said Emily, puffing out her chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting in an hour before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday - only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday - "

I was deeply thankful that Spud ushered us into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Emily to abandon her recital.

Meanwhile, Dani Malty had found a different way to induce panic.

"Of course, it's not what you know," she was heard telling Crate and Gabber loudly outside Potions a few days before the exams started, "it's who you know. Now, Mother's been friendly with the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority for years - old Gerald Marches - we've had him round for dinner and everything ..."

"Do you think that's true?" Sian whispered in alarm to Chris, Chrissie and I.

"Nothing we can do about it if it is," said Chris gloomily.

"I don't think it's true," said Nikita quietly from behind us. "Because Gerald Marches is a friend of my granddad's, and he' never mentioned the Maltys."

"What's he like?" said Sian at once. "Is he strict?"

"Bit like Granddad, really," said Nikita in a subdued voice.

"Knowing him won't hurt your chances, though, will it?" Chrissie told her encouragingly.

"Oh, I don't think it will make any difference," said Nikita, still more miserably. "Granddad's always telling Professor Marches I'm not as good as my mum ... well ... you saw what he's like in St Mungo's ..."

Nikita looked fixedly at the floor. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I glanced at each other, but none of us knew what to say. It was the first time Nikita had acknowledged that we had met at the wizarding hospital.

Meanwhile, a flourishing black-trade in aids to concentration, mental agility and wakefulness had sprung up among the fifth- and seventh-years. Chris, Chrissie and I were much tempted by the bottle of Baruffio's Brain Elixir offered to us by Raven-Wings sixth-year Edith Crump, who swore it was solely responsible for nine "Outstanding" OWLs she had gained the previous summer and was offering a whole pint for a mere twelve Galleons. Chris, Chrissie and I decided to split it three ways by chipping in four Galleons each, but before we could close the deal, Sian had confiscated the bottle from Crump and poured the contents down a toilet.

"Sian, we wanted to buy that!" shouted Chrissie.

"Don't be stupid," she snarled. "You might as well take Hayley Dingwall's powdered dragon claw and have done with it."

"Dingwall's got powdered dragon claw?" said Chris eagerly.

"Not any more," said Sian. "I confiscated that, too. None of these things actually work, you know."

"Dragon claw does work!" said Chris. "It's supposed to be incredible, really gives your brain a boost, you come over all cunning for a few hours - Sian, let us have a pinch, go on, it can't hurt - "

"This stuff can," said Sian grimly. "I've had a look at it, and it's actually dried Doxy droppings."

This information took the edge off mine, Chris and Chrissie's desire for brain stimulants.

We received our examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs during our next Transfiguration lesson.

"As you can see," Professor Darbus told us as we copied down the dates and times of our exams from the blackboard, "your OWLs are spread over two successive weeks. You will sit the theory papers in the mornings and the practice in the afternoons. Your practical Astronomy examination will, of course, take place at night.

"Now, I must warn you that the most stringent anti-cheating charms have been applied to your examination papers. Auto-Answer Quills are banned from the examination hall, as are Remembralls, Detachable Cribbing Cuffs and Self-Correcting Ink. Every year, I am afraid to say, seems to harbour at least one student who thinks that he or she can get around the Wizarding Examination Authority's rules. I can only hope that it is nobody in Lion-Heart. Our new - Headmaster - " Professor Darbus pronounced the word with the same look on her face that Aunt Mavuto had whenever she was contemplating a particularly stubborn bit of dirt " - has asked the Heads of House to tell their students that students will be punished most severely - because, of course, your examination results will reflect upon the Headmaster's new regime at the school - "

Professor Darbus gave a tiny sigh; I saw the nostrils of her sharp nose flare.

" - however, that is no reason not to do your best. You have your own futures to think about."

"Please, Professor," said Sian, her hand in the air, "when will we find out our results?"

"An owl will be sent to you some time in July," said Professor Darbus.

"Excellent," said Dena Wright in an audible whisper, "so we don't have to worry about it 'til the holidays."

I then imagined sitting in my bedroom in my grandmothers' cottage in six weeks' time, waiting for my OWL results. Well, I thought dully, at least I would be sure of one bit of owl post that summer (or, so I thought).

Our first examination, Theory of Charms, was scheduled for Monday morning. I agreed to test Sian after lunch on Sunday, but regretted it almost at once; she was very agitated and kept snatching the book back from me to check that she had got the answers completely right, finally hitting me hard on the nose with the sharp edge of _Achievements in Charming_.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" I said firmly, handing the book back to her, my eyes watering.

Meanwhile, Chris and Chrissie were both reading two years' worth of Charms notes together, turning over the page once the other had caught up; Zara Finn lay flat on her back on the floor, reciting the definition of a Substantive Charm while Dena checked it against _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ , and Perry and Larry, who were practicing Locomotion Charms, were making their pencil cases race each other around the edge of the table.

Dinner was a subdued affair that night. Chris, Chrissie and I did not talk much, but we did eat with gusto, having studied hard all day. Sian, on the other hand, kept putting down her knife and fork and diving under the table for her bag, from which she would seize a book to check some fact or figure. Chris and Chrissie both kept telling her that she ought to eat a decent meal or she would not sleep that night, when her fork slid from her limp fingers and landed with a loud tinkle on her plate.

"Oh, my goodness," she said faintly, staring into the Entrance Hall. "Is that them? Is that the examiners?"

Chris, Chrissie and whipped around on our bench. Through the doors to the Great Hall we saw Umber standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Umber, I was pleased to see, looked rather nervous.

"Shall we go and have a closer look?" said Chris.

Sian, Chrissie and I nodded and hastened towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall, slowing down as we stepped over the threshold to walk sedately past the examiners. I thought Professor Marches must be the tiny, stooped wizard with a face so lined it looked as though it had been draped in cobwebs; Umber was speaking to him deferentially. Professor Marches seemed to be a little deaf; he was answering Professor Umber very loudly considering they were only a foot apart.

"Journey was fine, journey was fine, we've made it plenty of times before!" he barked impatiently. "Now, I haven't heard from Crighton lately!" he added, peering around the Hall as though hopeful she might suddenly emerge from a broom cupboard. "No idea where she is, I suppose?"

"None at all," said Umber, shooting a malevolent look at Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I, as we dawdled around the foot of the staircase as Chris pretended to do up his shoelace. "But I daresay the Ministry of Magic will track her down soon enough."

"I doubt it," shouted tiny Professor Marches, "not if Crighton doesn't want to be found! I should know ... examined her personally in Transfiguration and Charms when she did NEWTs ... did things with a wand I'd never seen before. Makes one wonder if any of her children carry their mother's talent - that eldest daughter of hers in particular, considering all the things I've heard about her."

"Yes ... well ..." said Professor Umber as Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I dragged our feet up the marble staircase as slowly as we dared, "let me show you to the staff room. I daresay you'd like a cup of tea after your journey."

It was an uncomfortable sort of evening, that one was. We fifth-years were trying to do some last-minute revising but none of us seemed to get very far. I went to bed early but then lay awake for what felt like hours. I remembered my careers consultation and Darbus' furious declaration that she help me become an Auror if it was the last thing she did. I wished I had expressed a more achievable ambition now that exam time was here. I knew I was not the only fifth-year lying awake in the Dawsons' dormitory that night, but neither Sian, nor Chrissie nor I spoke to each other - and Beth, Kestrel and Merida had enough sense to leave us to our thoughts - and finally, one by one, we fell asleep.

None of us fifth-years talked very much at breakfast the next day, either; Perry was practicing incantations under his breath while the salt cellar in front of him twitched; Sian was reading _Achievements in Charming_ so fast that her eyes appeared blurred; and Nikita kept dropping her knife and fork and knocking over the marmalade.

Once breakfast was over, we fifth- and seventh-years milled around in the Entrance Hall while the other students went off to lessons; then, at half past nine, we were called forwards class by class to re-enter the Great Hall, which had been rearranged exactly as I had seen it in the Pensieve when my mother, Pumbaa and Triphorm had been taking their OWLs; the four house tables had been removed and replaced instead with many tables for one, all facing the staff table at the end of the Hall where Professor Darbus stood facing us. When we were all seated and quiet, she said, "You may begin," and turned over an enormous hour-glass on the desk beside her, on which there were also spare quills, ink bottles and rolls of parchment.

I turned over my paper, my heart thumping hard - three rows to my right and four seats ahead Sian was already scribbling - and lowered my eyes to the first question: _a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly._

I had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll ... smiling slightly, I bent over the paper and began to write.

0000

"Well, it wasn't too bad, was it?" said Sian anxiously in the Entrance Hall two hours later, still clutching the exam paper. "I'm not sure I did myself justice on Cheering Charms, I just ran out of time. Did you put in the counter-charm for hiccoughs? I wasn't sure whether I ought to, it felt like too much - and on question twenty-three - "

"Sian," said Chrissie sternly, "we've been through this before ... we're not going through every exam afterwards, it's bad enough doing them once."

We fifth-years ate lunch with the rest of the school (the four house tables had reappeared for the lunch hour), then we trooped off into the small chamber beside Great Hall, where we were to wait until called for our practical examination. As small groups of students were called forwards in alphabetical order, those of us left behind muttered incantations and practiced wand movements, occasionally poking each other in the back or the eye by mistake.

Sian's name was called, along with Chrissie's. Trembling, they left the chamber together with a few other students. Those who had already been tested did not return afterwards, so Chris and I had no idea how Sian and Chrissie had done.

"They'll be fine - Chrissie had plenty of help from Sian, and Sian herself got one hundred and twelve per cent on one of our Charms tests, remember?" said Chris.

Ten minutes later, Professor Winds called, "Parker, Percival - Party, Percival - Pride-Lander, Kiara."

"Good luck," said Chris quietly, giving my hand a quick reassuring squeeze. I smiled at him gratefully before I walked into the Great Hall, clutching my wand so tightly that my hand shook.

"Professor Tafty is free, Pride-Lander," squeaked Professor Winds, who was standing just inside the door. She pointed me towards what looked like the very oldest and white-haired examiner who was sitting behind a small table in a far corner, a short distance from Professor Marches, who was halfway through testing Dani Malty.

"Pride-Lander, is it?" said Professor Tafty, consulting her notes and peering over her half-moon spectacles to look at me as I approached. "The famous Pride-Lander?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I distinctly saw Malty throw a scathing look over at me; the wine glass Malty had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. I could not suppress a grin; Professor Tafty smiled back at me encouragingly.

"That's it," she said in her quavery old voice, "no need to be nervous. Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me."

On the whole, I thought it went rather well. My Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malty's had been, though I wished I had not mixed up the incantations for Colour Change and Growth Charms, so that the rat I was supposed to be turning orange swelled shockingly and was the size of a badger before I realised my mistake. I was glad that Sian had not been in the Hall at the time and I have not mentioned it to her to this day. I told Chris and Chrissie, though: Chris didn't chastise me for it, and Chrissie had caused a dinner plate to mutate into a large mushroom and had no idea how it had happened.

There was no time to relax that night; we went straight to the common room after dinner and submerged ourselves in revision for Transfiguration the next day; I remember going to bed that night with my head buzzing with complex spell-models and theories.

I forgot the definition of a Switching Spell during my written paper the next morning, but I thought my practical could have been a lot worse. At least I managed to Vanish the whole of my iguana, whereas Henry Abbott lost his mind completely at the next table and somehow managed to multiply his ferret into a flock of flamingos, causing the examination to be halted for ten minutes while the birds were captured and carried out of the Hall.

We had our Herbology exam on Wednesday (other than a small bite from a Fanged Geranium, I felt I had done reasonably well); and then, on Thursday, Defence Against the Dark Arts. There, for the first time, I felt sure I had passed. I had no problem with any of the written questions and took particular pleasure, during the practical examination, in performing all the counter-jinxes and defensive spells right in front of Umber, who watched coolly from near the doors into the Entrance Hall.

"Oh, bravo!" cried Professor Tafty, who was examining me again, when I demonstrated a perfect Boggart banishing spell. "Very good indeed! Well, I think that's all, Pride-Lander ... unless ..."

She leaned forwards a little.

"I heard from my dear friends Tabitha Oggs, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point ..."

I raised my wand, looked directly at Umber and imagined him being sacked.

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_

My silver lioness erupted from the end of my wand and padded the length of the Hall. All of the examiners looked around to watch its progress when it dissolved into silver mist. Professor Tafty clapped her veined and knotted hands enthusiastically.

"Excellent!" she said. "Very well, Pride-Lander, you may go!"

As I passed Umber beside the door, our eyes met. There was a nasty smile playing around his wide, slack mouth, but I did not care. Unless I was very much mistaken (and I did not tell anyone, just in case I was), I had just achieved an "Outstanding" OWL.

On Friday morning was our Muggle Studies exam, in which we were asked questions about the uses of electricity for Muggles and how they cannot survive without it; the importance of the sewage system and how it has evolved over the centuries and how it has made life easier for Muggles; how Muggle literature differs from ours and why do Muggles protect their children from the fairy tales that are written for them; and with the growing expansion of the Internet, how does this effect Muggles in their day-to-day lives, and will Muggles eventually turn into zombies due to all the attention caused by the rising growth in social media.

I answered the questions as best as I could, and to be honest, that was the one exam that I did not care whether I passed or failed on, for I had more important exams to think about.

Anyhoo, Friday afternoon, Chris, Chrissie and I took the afternoon off while Sian sat her Ancient Runes exam, and as we had the whole weekend in front of us we permitted ourselves a break from revision. We stretched and yawned beside the open window, through which warm summer air washed over us as we took turns to go against each other in wizard chess. I remember seeing Mina in the distance, teaching a class on the edge of the Forest. I was trying to guess what creatures they were examining - I thought it must be unicorns, because the boys seemed to be standing back a little - when the portrait hole opened and Sian clambered in, looking thoroughly bad-tempered.

"So, how were the Runes, sister?" said Chris, yawning and stretching.

"I mis-translated _ehwaz_ ," said Sian furiously. "It means _partnership_ , not _defence_ ; I mixed it up with _eihwaz_."

"Ah, well," said Chrissie lazily, "that's only one mistake, isn't it, you'll still get top marks, I'm sure of it."

"Oh, shut up!" said Sian angrily. "It could be the one mistake that makes the difference between a pass and a fail. And what's more, someone's put another Niffler in Umber's office. I don't know how they got it through that new door, but I just walked past there and Umber is shrieking his head off - by the sound of it, it tried to take a chunk out of his leg - "

"Good," said Chris, Chrissie and I together.

"It is _not_ good!" said Sian hotly. "He thinks it's Mina doing it, remember? And we do _not_ want Mina chucked out!"

"She's teaching at the moment; he can't blame her," I said, gesturing out of the window.

"Oh, you're so _naïve_ sometimes, Kiara. You really think Umber will wait for proof?" said Sian, who seemed determined to be in a towering temper, and she swept off towards the dormitories, stomping loudly on each step as she climbed.

"Such a lovely, sweet-tempered girl," said Chrissie very quietly, prodding her queen forwards to beat up one of my knights - but apparently, Chrissie wasn't quiet enough, for one of Sian's shoes zoomed down the staircase and thwacked Chrissie square on the back of the head.

Sian's bad mood persisted for most of the weekend, though Chris, Chrissie and I found it quite easy to ignore as we spent most of Saturday and Sunday revising for Potions on Monday, the exam which I had been looking forward to least - and which I was sure would be the downfall of my ambitions to become an Auror. Sure enough, I found the written paper difficult, though I thought I might have got full marks on the question abut Polyjuice Potion; I described its effects accurately, having taken it illegally in my second year.

The afternoon practical was not as dreadful as I had expected it to be. With Triphorm absent from the proceedings, I found that I was much more relaxed than I usually was while making potions. Nikita, who was very near me, also looked happier than I had ever seen her during a Potions class. When Professor Marches said, "Step away from your cauldrons, please, the examination is over," I corked my sample flask feeling that I might not have achieved a good grade but I had, with luck, avoided a fail.

"Only four exams left," said Perry Party wearily as we headed back to the Lion-Heart common room.

"Only!" said Chris snappishly. " _I've_ got Arithmancy and it's probably the toughest subject there is!"

None of us were foolish enough to snap back, so he was unable to vent his spleen on any of us and was reduced to telling off some first-years for giggling too loudly in the common room.

I was determined to perform well in Tuesday's Care of Magical Creatures exam so as not to let Mina down. The practical examination took place in the afternoon on the lawn on the edge of the Black Forest, where we students were required to correctly identify the Knarl hidden among a dozen hedgehogs (the trick was to offer them all milk in turn: Knarls, highly suspicious creatures whose quills had many magical properties, generally went berserk at what they saw as an attempt to poison them); then demonstrate the correct handling of a Bowtruckle; feed and clean out a Fire Crab without sustaining serious burns; and choose, from a wide selection of food, the diet we would give a sick unicorn.

I saw Mina watching anxiously out of her cabin window. When my examiner, a plump little wizard this time, smiled at me and told me I could leave, I gave Mina a fleeting thumbs-up before I headed back to the castle.

The Astronomy theory paper on Wednesday morning went well enough. I was not convinced I had got the names of all Jupiter's moons right, but I was at least confident that none of them was inhabited by mice. We had to wait until evening for our practical Astronomy; the afternoon was devoted to Divination.

Even by my low standards in Divination, the exam went very badly. I might as well have tried to see moving pictures on the desktop as in the stubbornly blank crystal ball; I remember losing my head completely during the tea-leaf reading, saying it looked to me as though Professor Marches would shortly be meeting a round, soggy stranger, and rounded off the whole fiasco by mixing up the life and head lines on his palm and informing him that he ought to have died the previous Tuesday.

"Well, we were always going to fail that one," said Chrissie gloomily as we ascended the marble staircase. She had just made me feel rather better by telling me how she had told the examiner in detail about the ugly woman with a wart on her nose in her crystal ball, only to look up and realise she had been describing her examiner's reflection.

"We shouldn't have taken the stupid subject in the first place," I said.

"Still, at least we can give it up now."

"Yeah," I said. "No more pretending we care what happens when Jupiter and Uranus get too friendly."

"And from now on, I don't care if my tea-leaves spell _die, Chrissie die_ \- I'm just chucking them in the bin where they belong."

I laughed just as Chris came running up behind us.

"Hey, how's the exam go?"

"Pretty good," said Chris modestly, shrugging. "Come on, let's go find Sian. No doubt she'll want us to go over our star-charts before dinner ..."

When we reached the top of the Astronomy Tower at eleven o'clock, we found it to be a perfect night for stargazing, cloudless and still. The grounds were bathed in silvery moonlight and there was a slight chill in the air. Each of us set up his or her telescope and, when Professor Marches gave the word, we all proceeded to fill in the blank star-chart each of us had been given.

Professors Marches and Tafty strolled among us, watching us as we entered the precise positions of the stars and planets we were observing. All was quiet except for the rustle of parchment, the occasional creak of a telescope as it was adjusted on its stand, and the scribbling of many quills. Half an hour passed, then an hour; the little squares of reflected gold light flickering on the ground below started to vanish as lights in the castle windows were extinguished.

As I completed the constellation Orion on my chart, however, the front doors of the castle opened directly below the parapet where I was stood, so that lights spilled down the stone steps a little way across the lawn. I glanced down as I made a slight adjustment to the position of my telescope and saw five or six elongated shadows moving over the brightly lit grass before the doors swung shut and the lawn became a sea of darkness once more.

I put my eye back to my telescope and refocused it, examining Venus. I looked down at my chart to enter the planet there, but something distracted me; pausing with my quill suspended over the parchment, I squinted down into the shadowy grounds and saw half a dozen figures walking over the lawn. If they had not been moving, and the moonlight had not been gliding the tops of their heads, they would have been indistinguishable from the dark ground on which they walked. Even at the distance I was, I had a funny feeling I recognised the walk of the squattest of them, who seemed to be leading the group.

I could not think of a reason why Umber would be taking a stroll outside after midnight, much less accompanied by five others. Then somebody coughed behind me, and I remembered that I was halfway through an exam. I had quite forgotten Venus' position. Jamming my eye to my telescope, I found it again and was once more about to enter it on my chart when, alert for any sound, I heard a distinct knock which echoed through the deserted grounds, followed immediately by the muffled barking of a large dog.

I looked up, my heart hammering. There were lights on in Mina's windows and the people I had observed crossing the lawn were now silhouetted against them. The door opened and I distinctly saw six sharply defined figures walk over the threshold. The door closed again and there was silence.

I felt very uneasy. I glanced around to see whether Chris, Sian or Chrissie had noticed what I had, but Professor Marches came walking behind me at that moment and, not wanting to look as though I was sneaking looks at anyone else's work, I hastily bent over my star-chart and pretended to be adding notes to it while really peering over the top of the parapet towards Mina's cabin. Figures were moving across the cabin windows, temporarily blocking the light.

I felt Professor Marches' eyes on the back of my neck and I pressed my eye again to my telescope, staring at the moon though I had marked its position an hour ago, but as Professor Marches moved on I heard a roar from the distant cabin that echoed through the darkness right to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Several of the people around me ducked out from behind their telescopes and peered instead in the direction of Mina's cabin.

Professor Tafty gave another dry little cough.

"Try and concentrate, now, boys and girls," she said softly.

Most people returned to their telescopes. I looked to my left. Sian was gazing transfixed at Mina's cabin.

"Ahem - twenty minutes to go," said Professor Tafty.

Sian jumped and returned at once to her star-chart; I looked down at my own and noticed that I had mis-labelled Venus as Mars. I bent to correct it.

There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried "Ouch!" when they poked themselves accidentally in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below.

Mina's door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin we saw her quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing her fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in her direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun her.

"No!" cried Sian.

"My dear!" said Professor Tafty in a scandalised voice. "This is an examination!"

But none of us were paying any attention to our star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Mina's cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off her; she was upright and still, as far as I could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a woman yelled, "Be reasonable, Mina!"

Mina roared, "Reasonable be damned, yeh won' take me like this, Dalca!"

I saw the tiny outline of Gnasher, attempting to defend Mina, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding her until a Stunning Spell caught her and she fell to the ground. Mina gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw her; the woman flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Sian gasped, both hands over her mouth; I looked round at Chris and Chrissie and saw that they, too, looked scared. None of us had ever seen Mina in a real temper before.

"Look!" squealed Sarah Rimmer, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light spilled out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was rippling across the lawn.

"Now, really!" said Professor Tafty anxiously. "Only sixteen minutes left, you know!"

But none of us paid her the slightest bit of attention: we were watching the person sprinting towards the battle beside Mina's cabin.

"How dare you!" the figure shouted as she ran. "How _dare_ you!"

"It's Darbus!" whispered Sian.

"Leave her alone! _Alone_ , I say!" said Professor Darbus' voice through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking her? She has done nothing, nothing to warrant such - "

Chrissie screamed, and Sian, Sarah and I all gasped. the figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor Darbus. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beam collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tafty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!"

"COWARDS!" bellowed Mina; her voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT - AN' THAT - "

"Oh my - " gasped Sian.

Mina took two massive swipes at her closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked out cold. I saw Mina double over, and thought she had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Mina was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on her back - then I realised that Gnasher's limp body was draped around her shoulders.

"Get her, get her!" screamed Umber, but his remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Mina's fists; indeed, she was backing away so fast she tripped over one of her unconscious colleagues and fell over. Mina had turned and began to run with Gnasher still hung around her neck. Umber sent one last Stunning Spell after her but it missed; and Mina, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.

There was a long minute's quivering silence as we all gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tafty's voice said feebly, "Um ... five minutes left to go, everybody."

Though I had only filled in two-thirds of my chart, I was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I forced our telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of we students were going to bed; we were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what we had just witnessed.

"That evil man!" gasped Sian, who had difficulty talking due to rage. "Trying to sneak up on Mina in the dead of night!"

"He clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Crystals," said Emily Mac sagely, squeezing over to join us.

"Mina did well, didn't she?" said Chrissie, who looked more alarmed than impressed. "How come all the spells bounced off her?"

"It'll be her giant blood," said Sian shakily. "It's very hard to Stun a giant, they're like trolls, really tough ... but poor Professor Darbus ... four Stunners straight in the chest and she's not exactly young, is she?"

"Dreadful, dreadful," said Emily, shaking her head pompously. "Well, I'm off to bed. Night, all."

People around us were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.

"At least they didn't get to take Mina off to Azkaban," said Chris. "I 'spect she's gone to join Ma, hasn't she?"

"I suppose so," said Sian, her expression mournful. "Oh, this is awful, I really hoped Ma would be back before long, but now we've lost Mina too."

We traipsed back to the Lion-Heart common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Zara and Dena, who had arrived ahead of Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I, were telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower. Naturally, when the other Dawsons spotted their eldest sister, they ran to her immediately, all reaching out for her in order to feel Sian's comfort and reassurance; she took them all to a separate corner of the common room, where they followed her like scared children running to their mother, wanting to be protected from any danger.

"But why sack Mina now?" asked Andrew Johnstone, shaking his head. "It's not like Crystals; she's been teaching much better than usual this year!"

"Umber hates part-humans," said Sian bitterly, stroking Merida's hair, whose head lay on her shoulder from where she sat on a window seat, with the rest of her siblings sat around her on the floor. "He was always going to try and get Mina out."

"And he thought Mina was putting Nifflers in his office," piped up Keith Ball.

"Oh, blimey," said Leah Jones, covering her mouth. "It's me who's been putting the Nifflers in his office. Tanya and Geri left me a couple; I've been levitating them in through his window."

"He'd have sacked her anyway," said Dena. "She was too close to Crighton."

"That's true," I said, flopping into an armchair by the fire.

"I just hope Professor Darbus is all right," said Larry sadly.

"They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window," said Colleen McCreevy. "She didn't look very well."

"Matron will sort her out," said Aaron Spinns firmly. "She never failed yet."

It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. I remember feeling wide awake; the image of Mina sprinting away into the dark haunted me; I was so angry with Umber I could not think of a punishment bad enough for him, though Chrissie's suggestion of having him fed to a box of starving Shudder-Ended Crabs had its merits. I fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested.

Our final exam, History of Magic, did not take place until that afternoon. I remember how much I wanted to go to bed after breakfast that morning, but I had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute revision, so instead I sat with my head in my hands by the common room window, trying hard not to doze off as I read through some of the three-and-a-half-feet-high stack of notes that Sian had lent me.

We fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o'clock and took our places in front of our face-down exam papers. I felt exhausted. I just wanted this to be over, so I could go and get some sleep; then tomorrow, Chris, Chrissie and I were going to go down to the Quidditch pitch - I was going to fly on Chris and Chrissie's brooms in turn - and savour our freedom from revision (but of course, things didn't go quite that way, as you will see ...).

"turn over your papers," said Professor Marches from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. "You may begin."

I stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to me that I had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, torturously, I began to write an answer.

I found it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. I simply skipped question four ( _In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, faun riots of the mid-eighteenth century?_ ), thinking that I would go back to it if I had time at the end. I had a stab at question five ( _How was the Statue of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?_ ) but had a nagging suspicion that I had missed several important points; I had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere.

I looked ahead for a question I could definitely answer and my eyes alighted upon number ten: _Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the wizards of Liechtenstein refused to join._

 _I know this_ , I thought, though my brain felt torpid and slack. I could visualise a heading in Sian's handwriting: _The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards_ ... I had read those notes only that morning.

I began to write, looking up every now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marches. I was at behind Perry Party, and once or twice I found myself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in his short dark hair when he moved his head slightly, and I had to give my own head a little shake to clear it.

 _... the first Supreme Mugwump if the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein because -_

All around me quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of my head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? I had a feeling it had something to do with trolls ... I gazed blankly at the back of Perry's head again. If I could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of his head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Bonaccord and Liechtenstein ...

I closed my eyes and buried my face in my hands, so that the glowing red of my eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights ... but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls ... that was it.

I opened my eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, I wrote two lines about the trolls, then I read through what I had done so far. It did not seem very informative or detailed, yet I was sure Sian's notes on the confederation had gone on for pages and pages.

I closed my eyes, trying to see them, trying to remember ... the confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, I had written that already ...

Fauns as well as goblins had tried to attend and both had been ousted ... I had written that, too ...

And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come ...

 _Think_ , I told myself, my face in my hands, while all around me quills scratched out never-ending answers and sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front ...

I was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach my destination at last ... the black door swung open for me as usual, and I was there in the circular room with its many doors ...

Straight across the stone floor and through the second door ... patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, I must hurry ...

I jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others ...

Once again I was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres ... my heart was beating very fast now ... I was going to get there this time ... when I reached number one hundred and seven I turned left and hurried along the aisle between the two rows ...

But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, two black shapes that were both moving on the floor like wounded animals, with one covering the other in a protective fashion ... my stomach contracted with fear ... with excitement ...

A voice issued from my own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness ...

"Take it for me ... lift it down, now ... I cannot touch it ... but you can ..."

The black shapes on the floor shifted a little. I saw a long, white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of my own right arm ... heard the high, cold voice say, _"Crucio!"_

The woman on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing; the man was begging me to stop, but I ignored him, laughing. I raised my wand, the curse lifted and the woman groaned and became motionless as the man moved back to her and held her in his arms.

"Lady Zira is waiting ..."

Very slowly, the man on the ground raised his head a few inches. His face was blood-stained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid in defiance ...

"You'll have to kill us," whispered my father.

"Undoubtedly I shall in the end," said the cold voice. "But you and your wife will fetch it for me first, Pride-Lander ... you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again ... we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream ..."

But somebody screamed as Zira lowered her wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; I awoke as I hit the ground, still yelling, my scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around me.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

 **Out of the Fire**

 **KIARA**

"I'm not going ... I don't need the hospital wing ... I don't want ..."

I was gibbering as I tried to pull away from Professor Tafty, who looked at me with much concern after helping me out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around us staring.

"I'm - I'm fine, ma'am," I stammered, wiping the sweat from my face. Really... I just fell asleep ... had a nightmare ..."

"Pressure of the examinations!" said the old witch sympathetically, patting me sympathetically on the shoulder. "It happens, dear girl, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?"

"Yes," I said wildly. "I mean ... no ... I've done - done as much as I can, I think ..."

"Very well, very well," said the old witch gently. "I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest you go and have a nice lie down."

"I'll do that," I said, nodding vigorously. "Thanks very much."

The second that the old woman's heels had disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, I ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast that portraits I passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Matron - who had been spooning some light blue liquid into Montague's mouth - to shriek in alarm.

"Pride-Lander, what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see Professor Darbus," I gasped, the breath tearing my lungs. "Now ... it's urgent!"

"She's not here, Pride-Lander," said Matron sadly. "She was transferred to St Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It's a wonder they didn't kill her."

"She's ... gone?" I said, shocked.

The bell rang just outside the dormitory and I heard the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above and below me. I remained quite still, looking at Matron. Terror was rising inside me.

I (stupidly) thought that there was nobody left to tell. Crighton had gone, Mina had gone, but I had always expected Professor Darbus to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present ...

"I don't wonder you're shocked, Pride-Lander," said Matron, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. "As if one of them could have Stunned Deidre Darbus face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that's what it was ... despicable cowardice ... if I wasn't worried what would happen to you students without me, I'd resign in protest."

"Yes," I said blankly.

I wheeled around and strode blankly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where I stood, baffled by the crowd, panic expanding inside me like poisonous gas so that my head swam and I could not think what to do ...

 _Chris, Sian and Chrissie_ , said a voice in my head.

I was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests. I sprinted back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when I saw them hurrying towards me.

"Kiara!" said Sian at once, looking very concerned for me. "What happened? Are you ill?"

"Are you OK?" said Chris, who looked frightened.

"Where have you been?" demanded Chrissie.

"Come with me," I said quickly. "Come on, I've got to tell you something."

I led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last I found an empty classroom into which I dived, closing the door behind Chris, Sian and Chrissie the moment they were inside it, and leaned against it, facing them.

"Zira's got my parents."

 _"What?"_

"Are you sure?"

"How d'you - ?"

"Saw it, just now. When I fell asleep in the exam."

"But - but where? How?" said Sian, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," I said. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they're at the end of row one hundred and seven ... she's trying to use my parents to get whatever it is she wants from in there ... she's torturing them ... says she'll end by killing them!"

I found my voice shaking, as were my knees, and my throat was starting to close up and I felt the prickling of tears in my eyes. I moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master my emotions.

"How're we going to get there?" I asked them.

There was a moment's silence. Then Chris said, "G-get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue my parents!" I said loudly.

"But - Kiara ..." said Chrissie weakly.

"What? _What?_ " I said.

I did not understand why the three of them were gaping at me as though I was asking them something unreasonable.

"Kiara," Sian said in a forcibly calm voice, "er ... how ... how did Zira get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realising she was there?"

"How do I know?" I bellowed. "The question is how _we're_ going to get in there!"

"But ... Kiara, think about this," said Sian, taking a step towards me, "it's five o'clock in the afternoon ... the Ministry of Magic must be full of workers ... how would Zira and your parents got in without being seen? Kiara ... they're probably the three most wanted wizards in the world ... you think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?"

"I dunno, Zira used an Invisibility Cloak or something!" I shouted. "Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been empty whenever I've been - "

"You've never been there, Kiara," said Sian quietly. "You've dreamed about the place, that's all."

"They're not normal dreams!" I shouted in her face, standing up and taking a step closer to her in turn. I felt like shaking her. "How d'you explain your dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what had happened to him?"

"She's got a point," said Chris quietly.

"Yeah, sorry Sian, but Kiara kinda makes sense here," said Chrissie, looking at Sian.

"But this is just - just so _unlikely_!" said Sian desperately. "Kiara, how on earth could Zira have got hold of your parents when they've been at Pumbaa's house all this time?"

"Nala might've cracked, fancied some fresh air, and seeing as Simba couldn't stop her, he went after her to keep an eye on her," said Chrissie, sounding worried.

"They've been desperate to get out of that house for ages - "

"But why," Sian persisted, "why one earth would Zira want to use _Kiara's parents_ to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?"

"I dunno, there could be loads of reasons!" I yelled at her. "Maybe my parents are just some of many people that Zira doesn't care about seeing hurt - "

"You know what, I've just thought of something," said Chris in a hushed voice. "Pumbaa's brother was a Love Destroyer, right? Maybe he told Pumbaa how to get the weapon?"

Chrissie gasped as a thought hit her. "And then Pumbaa told your parents about it - "

"Yeah - and that's why Crighton's been so keen to keep my parents locked up all the time!" I said, continuing Chrissie's thought.

"Look, I'm sorry," cried Sian, "but the three of you aren't making any sense, and we've got no proof of any of this, no proof Zira, Simba and Nala are even there - "

"Sian, Kiara's seen them!" said Chrissie, rounding on her.

"OK," she said, looking frustrated but determined to get her point across, "I've just got to say this - "

"What?"

Sian took a deep, calming breath, and said, "You ... this isn't a criticism, Kiara! But you do ... sort of ... I mean - don't you think you've got a bit of a - a - _saving-people thing_?"

I glared at her.

"And what's that supposed o mean, a "saving-people thing"?"

"Well ... you ..." I saw a flash of apprehension flash across her eyes. "I mean ... last year, for instance ... in the river ... during the Tournament ... you shouldn't have ... I mean, you didn't need to save that little Desjardin boy ... you got a bit ... carried away ..."

A wave of hot, prickly anger swept through my body; how could she remind me of that blunder now?

"I mean, it was really good of you and everything," said Sian quickly, standing her ground, "everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do - "

"That's funny," I said through gritted teeth, "because I definitely remember Chrissie saying I'd wasted time _acting the hero_ ... is that what you think this is? You reckon I want to act the hero again?"

"No, no, no!" said Sian, looking aghast. "That's not what I meant at all!"

"Well, spit out what you've got to say, because we're wasting time here!" I shouted.

"I'm trying to say - Zira knows you, Kiara! She took Kestrel down into the Chamber of Mysteries to lure you there, it's the kind of thing she does, she knows you're the - the sort of person who'd go to your parents' aid! What if she's just trying to get _you_ into the Department of Myst- ?"

"Sian, it doesn't matter if she's done it to get me there or not - they've taken Darbus to St Mungo's, there isn't anyone from the Order left at Dragon Mort who we can tell, and if we don't go, my parents are dead!"

"But Kiara - what if your dream was - was just that, a dream?"

I let out a roar of frustration; I was pleased to see Sian looking alarmed.

"You don't get it!" I shouted at her. "I'm not having nightmares, I'm not just dreaming! Why d'you think your mother wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because they're REAL, Sian - my parents are trapped, I've seen them, and no one else knows, and that means we're the only ones who can save them, and if you don't want to do it, fine, but I'm going, understand? And if I remember rightly, you didn't have a problem with my _saving-people thing_ when it was you I was saving from the Stingers, or - " I rounded on Chris and Chrissie " - when we went down to the Chamber of Mysteries together, and I ended up saving Kestrel from the Lizsnabadra - "

"Hey, Chrissie and I never said you had a problem!" said Chris heatedly.

"Yeah, just because you're upset, doesn't mean you have to take it out on us!"

"But Kiara, you've just said it," said Sian fiercely, "Ma wanted you to learn to shut these things out of your mind, if you'd done Occlumency properly you'd never have seen this - "

"IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN - "

"Your parents told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind!"

"WELL, I EXPECT THEY'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF THEY KNOW WHAT I'D JUST - "

The classroom door opened. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I whipped around. Kestrel walked in, looking curious, closely followed by Lincoln, who as usual looked as though he had drifted in accidentally.

"Hi," said Kestrel uncertainly. "We recognised Kiara's voice. What are you talking about?"

"Never you mind," I said roughly.

Kestrel raised her eyebrows.

"There's no need to take that tone with me," she said coolly, "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," I said shortly.

"You're being rude, you know," said Lincoln serenely.

I snorted at him and turned away. The last thing I wanted at that moment was a conversation with Lincoln Lovedream.

"Wait," said Sian suddenly. "Wait ... Kiara, they _can_ help."

Chris, Chrissie and I looked at her.

"Listen," she said urgently, "Kiara, we need to establish whether your parents really have left Headquarters."

"I've told you, I saw - "

"Kiara, I'm begging you, please!" said Sian desperately. "Please let's just check that your parents aren't at Pumbaa's house before we go charging off to London. If we find out they're not there, then I swear I won't try to stop you. I'll come, I'll do whatever it takes to try and save them."

"My parents are being tortured NOW!" I shouted. "We haven't got time to waste."

"But if this is a trick of Zira's, Kiara, we've got to check, we've got to."

"How?" I demanded. "How're we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umber's fire and see if we can contact them, or see if Pumbaa's there," said Sian, who looked positively terrified at the thought. "We'll draw Umber away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Kestrel and Lincoln."

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Kestrel said immediately, "Yeah, we'll do it," and Lincoln said, "When you say "Simba and Nala", are you talking about Stewie and Nadia Penny-Long?"

None of us answered him.

"OK," I said aggressively to Sian, "OK, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now."

"The Department of Mysteries?" said Lincoln, looking mildly surprised. "But how are you going to get there?"

Again, I ignored him.

"Right," said Sian, her hands together behind her back and pacing up and down between the desks. "Right ... well ... a couple of us will have to go and find Umber and - and send him off in the wrong direction, keep him away from his office. They could tell him - I don't know - that Weeves is up to something awful as usual ..."

"Chrissie and I will do it," said Chris at once. "We'll tell him Weeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from his office. Come to think of it, I could send Chrissie to possibly persuade Weeves to do it if we meet her on the way. It's a _simple_ enough task for Chrissie to do, anyway."

Chrissie nodded enthusiastically, but as the rest of Chris' words sank in, she looked at him confused and offended; Sian stifled a laugh at the expression on Chrissie's face. And speaking of Sian, it was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that she made no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department.

"OK," Sian said, her brow furrowed as she continued to pace. "Now, we need to keep students right away from his office while we force entry, or some Snake-Eyes' bound to go and tip him off."

"Kestrel and Lincoln can stand at either end of the corridor," said Chris promptly, "and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a lot of Garrotting Gas." Sian looked surprised at the readiness with which Chris had come up with the lie; Chris shrugged and said, "Tanya and Geri were planning to do it before they left."

"OK," said Sian. "Well then, Kiara, you and I will be under the Invisibility Cloak and we'll sneak into the office and you can talk to your parents - "

"They're not there, Sian!"

"I mean, you can check with Pumbaa whether Simba and Nala are with him or not while I keep watch. I don't think you should be in there alone, Leah's already proved the window's a weak spot, sending those Nifflers through it."

Even through my anger and impatience, I recognised Sian's offer to accompany me into Umber's office as a sign of solidarity and loyalty.

"I ... OK, thanks," I muttered.

"Right, well, even if we do all that, I don't think we are going to be able to bank on more than five minutes," said Sian, looking relieved that I seemed to have accepted the plan, "not with Match and the wretched Inquisitorial Squad floating around."

"Five minutes'll be enough," I said. "C'mon, let's go - "

 _"Now?"_ said Sian, looking shocked.

"Of course now!" I said angrily. "What did you think, we're going to wait until after dinner or something? Sian, my parents are being tortured _right now_."

"I - oh, all right," she said desperately. "You go and get the Invisibility Cloak and we'll meet you at the end of Umber's corridor, OK?"

I didn't answer, but flung myself out of the room and began to fight my way through the milling crowds outside. Two floors up I met Zara and Dena, who hailed me jovially and told me they were planning a dusk-till-dawn end-of-exams celebration in the common room. I barely heard them. I scrambled through the portrait hole while they were still arguing about how many black-market Butterbeers they would need and was climbing back out of it, the Invisibility Cloak and my parents' knife secure in my bag, before they noticed I had left them.

"Kiara, d'you want to chip in a couple of Galleons? Hayley Dingwall reckons she could sell us some Firewhisky - "

But I was already tearing away back along the corridor, and a couple of minutes later I was jumping the last few stairs to join Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Kestrel and Lincoln, who were huddled together at the end of Umber's corridor.

"Got it," I panted. "Ready to go, then?"

"All right," whispered Sian, as a gang of loud sixth-years passed us. "So, Chris, Chrissie - you to go and head Umber off ... Kestrel, Lincoln, if you can start moving people out of the corridor ... Kiara and I will get the Cloak on and wait until the coast is clear ..."

Chris and Chrissie strode away, Chris' light brown hair visible right to the end of the passage; meanwhile, Kestrel's dark brown haired head bobbed between the jostling students surrounding us in the opposite direction, trailed by Lincoln's blond one.

"Get over here," muttered Sian, tugging at my wrist and pulling me into a recess where the ugly stone head of a medieval witch stood muttering to itself on a column. "Are you sure you're OK, Kiara? You're still very pale."

"I'm fine," I said shortly, tugging the Invisibility Cloak from out of my bag. In truth, my scar ached, but not so badly that I thought Zira had dealt my parents their final blows; it had hurt much worse when Zira had been punishing Aakster ...

"Here," I said; I threw the Invisibility Cloak over the two of us and we stood listening carefully over the Latin mumblings of the bust in front of us.

"You can't come down here!" Kestrel called to the crowd. "No, sorry, you're going to have to go round by the swivelling staircase, someone's let off Garrotting Gas just along here - "

We heard people complaining; one surly voice said, "I can't see no gas."

"That's because it's colourless," said Kestrel in a convincingly exasperated voice, "but if you want to walk through it, carry on, then we'll have your body as proof for the next idiot who doesn't believe us."

Slowly, the crowd thinned. The news about the Garrotting Gas seemed to have spread; people were not coming this way any more. When at last the surrounding area was quite clear, Sian said quietly, "I think that's as good as we're going to get, Kiara - come on, let's do it."

We moved forwards, covered by the Cloak. Lincoln was stood with his back to us at the far end of the corridor. As we passed Kestrel, Sian whispered, "Good one ... don't forget the signal."

"What's the signal?" I muttered, as we approached Umber's office door.

"A loud chorus of "Dawson is our Queen" if they see Umber coming," replied Sian, as I inserted the blade of my parents' knife in the crack between door and wall. The lock clicked open and we entered the office.

The garish puppies were basking in the late-afternoon sunshine that was warming their plates, but otherwise the office was still and unoccupied as last time. Sian breathed a sigh of relief.

"I thought he might have added extra security after the second Niffler."

We pulled off the Cloak; Sian hurried over to the window and stood out of sight, peering down into the grounds with her wand out. I dashed over to the fireplace, seized the pot of Floo powder and threw a pinch into the grate, causing emerald flames to burst into life there. I knelt down quickly, thrust my head into the dancing fire and cried, "Pumbaa's house!"

My head began to spin as though I had just got off a fairground ride though my knees remained firmly planted on the solid office floor. I kept my eyes screwed up against the whirling ash and when the spinning stopped I opened them to find myself looking out at the long, cold kitchen of Pumbaa's house.

There was nobody there. I had expected this, yet was not prepared for the molten wave of dread and panic that burst through my stomach at the sight of the deserted room.

"Daddy?" I shouted. "Daddy? Mum? Are you there?"

My voice echoed around the room, but there was no anger except a tiny scuffing sound to the right of the fire.

"Who's there?" I called, wondering whether it was just a mouse.

Kleaner the house-elf crept into view. She looked highly delighted about something, though she seemed to have recently sustained a nasty injury to both hands, which were heavily bandaged.

"It's the Pride-Lander girl's head in the kitchen fire," Kleaner informed the empty kitchen, stealing furtive, oddly triumphant glances at me. "What has she come for, Kleaner wonders?"

"Where're my parents, Kleaner?" I demanded.

The house-elf gave a wheezy chuckle.

"Your mother and father and my master have all gone out, Kiara Pride-Lander."

"Where've they gone? _Where've they gone, Kleaner?_ "

Kleaner merely cackled.

"I'm warning you!" I said, fully aware that my scope for inflicting punishment upon Kleaner was almost non-existent in that position. "What about Meers? Crazy-Head? Any of them, are any of them there?"

"Nobody here but Kleaner!" said the elf gleefully, and turning away from me she began to walk slowly towards the door at the end of the kitchen. "Kleaner thinks she will have a little chat with her mistress now, yes, she hasn't had a chance in a long time, Kleaner's master has been keeping her away from him - "

"Where have my parents gone?" I yelled after the elf. _"Kleaner, have they gone to the Department of Mysteries?"_

Kleaner stopped in her tracks. I could just make out the back of her bald head through the forest of chair-legs before me.

"Master does not tell poor Kleaner where he or his friends are going," said the elf quietly.

"But you know!" I shouted. "Don't you? You know where my parents are!"

There was a moment's silence, then the elf let out her loudest cackle yet.

"Master's friends will not come back from the Department of Mysteries, and master will not come back with them!" she said gleefully. "Kleaner and her master are alone again!"

And she scurried forwards and disappeared through the door to the hall.

"You - !"

But before I could utter a single curse or insult, I felt a great pain at the top of my head; I inhaled a lot of ash and, choking, I found myself being pulled backwards through the flames, until with a horrible abruptness I was staring up into the wide, pallid face of Professor Umber who had dragged me backwards out of the fire by the hair and was bending my neck back as far as it would go, as though he was going to slit my throat.

"You think," he whispered, bending my neck back even further, so that I was looking up at the ceiling, "that after two Nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish girl. Take her wand," he barked at someone I could not see, and I felt a hand grope inside the chest pocket of my robes and remove my wand. "And hers, too."

I heard a scuffle over by the door and knew that Sian had also just had her wand wrestled from her.

"I want to know why you are in my office," said Umber, shaking the fist clutching my hair so that I staggered.

"I was - trying to get my Firecracker!" I croaked.

"Liar." He shook my head again. "Your Firecracker is under strict guard in the dungeon, as you very well know, Pride-Lander. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one - " I said, trying to pull away from him. I felt several hairs part company with my scalp.

 _"Liar!"_ shouted Umber. He threw me from him and I slammed into the desk. I saw Sian pinned against the wall by Muller Bull; she didn't do anything to escape his clutches, but she was glaring at Umber. Malty was also there, leaning on the windowsill, smirking as she threw my wand into the air one-handed and caught it again.

There was a commotion outside and several large Snake-Eyes entered, each gripping Chris, Chrissie, Kestrel, Lincoln and - to my bewilderment - Nikita and Keziah, who were being held by Crate and Gabber, Nikita was trapped in a stronghold by Crate and looked in imminent danger of suffocation, and Keziah, who was being restrained by Gabber, was looking at the floor. She had tears in her eyes. All six of them had been gagged.

"Got 'em all," said Warner, shoving Chrissie roughly forwards into the room. " _These_ two," she poked two thick fingers at Nikita and Keziah, "tried to stop me taking _them_ ," she pointed at Kestrel, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Snake-Eyes boy holding her, and Lincoln, who stood calmly in his captor's arms as though he were in no present danger, "so I brought them along to."

"Good, good," said Umber, watching Kestrel's struggles. "Well, it certainly is a pity that your cousin doesn't know where her loyalties lie, Dani, but on the up-side, it seems that we now have the opportunity to be rid of some of Crighton's children at last, don't we?"

Malty laughed loudly and sycophantically. Umber gave his wide, complacent smile and settled himself into a chintz-covered armchair, blinking up at his captives like a toad in a pond.

"So, Pride-Lander," he said. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent these two buffoons," he nodded at Chris and Chrissie - Malty laughed even louder - "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that she was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes - Mr Match having just informed me so.

"Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Susan Crighton? Or the half-breed, Mina? I doubt it was Deidre Darbus, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone."

Malty and a few of the other members of the Inquisitorial Squad laughed some more at that. I found I was so full of rage and hatred I was shaking. How dare he say that about one of the best teachers - nay, _witches_ \- Dragon Mort's ever had?

"It's none of your business who I talk to," I snarled.

Umber's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well," he said in his most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. "Very well, Miss Pride-Lander ... I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Dani - fetch Professor Triphorm."

Malty stowed my wand inside her robes and left the room smirking, but I hardly noticed. I had just realised something; I could not believe I had been so stupid to forget it. I had thought that all the members of the Order, all those who could help me save my parents, were gone - but I had been wrong. There was still a member of the Order of the Centaur at Dragon Mort. Triphorm.

There was silence in the office except for the fidgetings and scufflings resulting from the Snake-Eyes' efforts to keep Chrissie and my friends under control. Chris' lip was breeding on to Umber's carpet as he struggled against Warner's half-nelson; Chrissie had a bruise forming on her right cheek; Kestrel was still trying to stamp on the feet of the sixth-year boy who had both her upper arms in a tight grip; Nikita was turning steadily more purple in the face while tugging at Crate's arms; Keziah wasn't struggling, but she was looking at the ground, crying silently; and Sian was another one who wasn't struggling, but was glaring at Umber. Lincoln, however, stood limply by the side of his captor, gazing vaguely out of the window as though rather bored by the proceedings.

I looked back at Umber, who was watching me closely. I kept my face deliberately smooth and blank as footsteps were heard in the corridor outside and Dani Malty entered the room, closely followed by Triphorm.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" said Triphorm, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Triphorm," said Umber, smiling widely and standing up again. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Pride-Lander," she said, surveying him coolly through her long, greasy curtains of strawberry-blonde hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umber flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" he said, his voice becoming more sweetly babyish as it always did when he was furious.

"Certainly," said Triphorm, her lip curling. "It takes a full moon-cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" sad Umber, swelling toadishly. "A _month_? But I need it this evening, Triphorm! I just found Pride-Lander using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" said Triphorm, showing her first, faint sign of interest as she looked round at me. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Pride-Lander has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

Her cold, icy-blue eyes were boring into mine, and I met her gaze unflinchingly, concentrating hard on what I had seen in my dream, willing Triphorm to read my mind, to understand ...

"I wish to interrogate her!" said Umber angrily, and Triphorm looked away from me back into his furiously quivering face. "I wish you to produce me with a potion that will force her to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," said Triphorm smoothly, "that I have no further stacks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Pride-Lander - and I ensure you I would have the greatest sympathy if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling."

Triphorm looked back at me, and I stared back at her, frantic to communicate without words.

 _Zira's got my parents in the Department of Mysteries_ , I thought desperately. _Zira's got my parents_ -

"You are on probation!" shrieked Professor Umber, and Triphorm looked back at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! Nerissa Malty always speaks highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Triphorm gave him an ironic curtsy and turned to leave. I knew my last chance of letting the Order know what was going on was walking out of the door.

"She's got Leo and Leona!" I shouted. "She's got Leo and Leona at the place where it's hidden!"

Triphorm had stopped with her hand on Umber's door handle.

"Leo and Leona?" cried Professor Umber, looking eagerly from myself to Triphorm. "Who are Leo and Leona? Where what is hidden? What does she mean, Triphorm?"

Triphorm looked round at me. Her face was inscrutable. I could not tell whether she had understood or not, but I did not dare speak more plainly in front of Umber.

"I have no idea," said Triphorm coldly. "Pride-Lander, when I want nonsense shouted at me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crate, loosen your hold a little. If Bore suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if you ever apply for a job."

She closed the door behind her with a snap, leaving me in a state of worse turmoil than before: Triphorm had been my very last hope. I looked at Umber, who seemed to be feeling the same way; his chest heaved with rage and frustration.

"Very well," he said, and he pulled out his wand. "Very well ... I am left with no alternative ... this is more than a matter of school discipline ... this is an issue of Ministry security ... yes ... yes ..."

He seemed to be talking himself into something. He was shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at me, beating his wand against his empty palm and breathing heavily. As I watched him, I felt horribly powerless without my wand.

"You are forcing me, Pride-Lander ... I do not want to," said Umber, still moving restlessly on the spot, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use ... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice ..."

Malty was watching him with a hungry expression on her face.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umber quietly.

"No!" shrieked Sian. "Professor Umber - it's illegal."

But Umber took no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on his face that I had never seen before. He raised his wand.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umber!" cried Sian.

"What Cornelia doesn't know won't hurt her," said Umber, who was panting slightly as he pointed his wand at different parts of my body in turn, apparently trying to decide where it would hurt me most. "She never knew I ordered Stingers to go after Pride-Lander last summer, but she was delighted to be given the chance to expel her, all the same."

"It was _you_?" I gasped. " _You_ sent the Stingers after me?"

" _Somebody_ had to act," breathed Umber, as his wand came to rest pointing directly at my forehead. "They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you - but I was the one who actually _did_ something about it ... only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Pride-Lander? Not today, though, not now - " And taking a deep breath, he cried, _"Cruc- "_

"NO!" shouted Sian in a cracked voice from behind Muller Bull. "No - Kiara - we have to tell him!"

"No way!" I yelled, staring at the little of Sian I could see.

"We'll have to, Kiara, he'll force it out of you anyway, so what's the point?"

"Well, well, well," said Umber, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-all is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

"Sha - arn - no!" shouted Chris through his gag.

"Don' - gib - in - to - him - Sha - arn!" Chrissie yelled through her gag.

Kestrel was staring at Sian as though she had never seen her before. Nikita, still choking for breath, and Keziah, who was still sobbing silently, were both watching her. Sian, whose face was crumpled in despair, did not bow her head, but kept glaring at Umber. I couldn't tell if she was scared or acting, she was that good.

"I-I'm sorry, everyone," said Sian. "But - I can't stand it - "

"That's right, that's right, girl!" said Umber, seizing Sian by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. "Now then ... with whom was Pride-Lander communicating just now?"

"Well ..." Sian said slowly. She shook her head, took a deep breath and said, "she was trying to contact ... my mother."

Sian bowed her head as she said those last two words. Chris and Chrissie froze, their eyes wide; Kestrel stopped trying to stamp on her Snake-Eyes captor's toes; even Lincoln looked mildly surprised. Fortunately, the attention of Umber and his minions was focused too exclusively on Sian to notice these suspicious signs.

"Crighton?" said Umber eagerly. "You know where Crighton is, then?"

"Well ... we made contact with my father ... to ask if he had seen her and if he knew where she was ..."

"I see," said Umber, his excitement rising. "And _does_ he know where your mother is?"

"No," said Sian sadly, shaking her head. "He hasn't had contact with her in months."

As Umber's excitement turned quickly to disappointment, I couldn't help but admire Sian, and at how fast she was coming up with her lies.

Noticing Umber's look of disappointment, Sian added, "We wanted to contact my mother because we had to tell her something very important."

"Yes?" said Umber with a sudden resurgence of excitement. "What was it you wanted to tell her?"

"We ... we wanted to tell her it's ready," said Sian calmly, still looking at her hands.

"What's ready?" demanded Umber, and he grabbed Sian's shoulders and shook her slightly. "What's ready, girl?"

"The ... the weapon," said Sian.

"Weapon? Weapon?" said Umber, and his eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On your mother's orders, of course?"

"Yes," Sian sighed reluctantly, "but she had to leave before it was finished, and now we've finished it for her, and we can't find her to tell her! God, I miss her so much!"

"What kind of weapon is it?" said Umber harshly, dismissing her last comment, his stubby hands still tight on Sian's shoulders.

"We - we don't ... really understand it," said Sian, wringing her hands. "We were just following my mother's orders. She didn't give us any information on what it's for or how to use it."

Umber straightened up, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," he said.

Sian looked up at him then. "I'll show you but I'm not showing ... _them_ ," she said, glancing quickly at the Snake-Eyes.

"It is not for you to set conditions," said Professor Umber harshly.

"Fine!" said Sian angrily, standing up and throwing her hands in the air. "Fine! Let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! That would serve you right - oh, I'd love it if the whole school knew where it was, and how to use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to sort you out!"

Those words had a powerful impact on Umber: he glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at his Inquisitorial Squad, his bulging eyes resting for a moment on Malty, who was too slow to disguise the look of eagerness and greed that had appeared on her face.

Umber contemplated Sian for another long moment, then spoke in what he clearly thought was a fatherly voice.

"All right, dear, let's make it just you and me ... and we'll take Pride-Lander, too, shall we? Get up, now."

"Professor," said Malty eagerly, "Professor Umber, I think some of the Inquisitorial Squad should come with you to look after - "

"Oh, for God's sake, Malty!" said Sian, rounding on Malty before Umber could say anything, stunning Malty into silence. "Professor Umber is a fully qualified Ministry official, who is more than capable of taking care of himself! So taking that into account, do you honestly think he needs protection from schoolchildren, such as ourselves?"

All of us were shocked at Sian's words, for that was the first time Sian had ever stood up for Umber. Umber himself was both shocked and impressed by her words, for he said, "Well said, my dear. You know, I never believed that you of all people - "

"Oh, don't act so high and mighty, sir!" Sian barked, rounding on Umber. "Just because I stood up for you does not mean that I like you!"

Umber was shocked once again, but this time his shock was mixed with displeasure and anger. "I could say the same thing about you, girl."

"Good. Then we're agreed on something for once," Sian said politely, mustering a fake smile, which she kept plastered to her face as Umber swept past her to give instructions to his Inquisitorial Squad. Once his back was to her, Sian then gave Umber's back an ugly look before she came to me and helped me up.

"Are you OK?" she asked me, concerned.

"Yeah, I am now," I said quietly. "Thanks for getting me out of that one."

"Ah, don't worry about it," said Sian, brushing aside my gratitude with a wave of her hand. "Besides, I know you'd do the same for me."

We smiled at each other, then I said, "It was amazing how you lied to him back there, by the way. How did you - ?"

"Please, that was too easy," said Sian, speaking like she was explaining that two and two makes four. "When you're the eldest in a family as big as mine, you find you have to think fast on your feet to make up an excuse or cover story of some kind to get someone out of trouble."

"Oh," I said, impressed by Sian's way of thinking. Then I got scared again, as I remembered what Sian had got us into. "Er - S.D. ... what exactly are you planning to - "

"Look, I'm not expecting you to understand me here, all I ask is that you trust me. Do I have your trust, Kiara?"

I looked at her pleading face, and I knew that Sian was my only hope - not only to get Umber off our backs, but also to get to my parents faster. So I said, "Yes, Sian, you have my trust."

Sian nodded and smiled in gratitude, then we both turned back to face Umber, who was finishing giving orders to his Inquisitorial Squad, none of whom looked too pleased that they were staying behind; indeed, Malty looked like she had been denied an exceedingly good treat.

Then Umber turned to us and said, "Right you two ... lead the way."


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

 **Fight and Flight**

 **KIARA**

As you all already know, I had no idea what Sian was planning, or even whether she had a plan. I walked half a pace behind her as we headed down the corridor outside Umber's office, knowing it would look very suspicious if I appeared not to know where we were going. I did not dare attempt to talk to her; Umber was walking so closely behind me that I could hear his ragged breathing.

Sian led the way down the stairs into the Entrance Hall. The din of loud voices and the clatter of cutlery on plates echoed from out of the marble doors to the Great Hall - it seemed incredible to me that twenty feet away were people who were enjoying dinner, celebrating the end of exams, not a care in the world ...

Sian walked straight out of the oak front doors and down the stone steps into the balmy evening air. The sin was falling towards the tops of the trees in the Black Forest, and as Sian marched purposefully across the grass - Umber jogging to keep up - our long dark shadows rippled over the grass behind us like cloaks.

"It's hidden in Mina's hut, isn't it?" said Umber eagerly in my ear.

"Of course not," said Sian scathingly. "Mina might have set it off accidentally."

"Yes," said Umber, whose excitement seemed to be mounting. "Yes, she would have done, of course, the great half-breed oaf."

He laughed. I felt a strong urge to swing around and give Umber a piece of my mind, but I resisted. My scar throbbed in the soft evening air but it had not yet burned white-hot, as I knew it would if Zira had moved in for the kill.

"Then ... where is it?" asked Umber, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice as Sian continued to stride towards the Forest.

"In there, of course," said Sian, pointing into the dark trees. "It had to be somewhere that students weren't going to find it accidentally, didn't it?"

"Of course," said Umber, though he sounded a little apprehensive. "Of course ... very well, then ... you two stay ahead of me."

"Can we have your wand, then, if we're going first?" I asked him.

"No, I don't think so, Miss Pride-Lander," said Umber sweetly, poking me in the back with it. "The Ministry places a rather higher value on my life than yours, I'm afraid."

As we reached the cool shade of the first trees, I tried to catch Sian's eye; walking into the Forest without wands seemed to me to be more foolhardy than anything we had done so far that evening. She, however, merely gave Umber a contemptuous glance and plunged straight into the trees, moving at such a pace that Umber, with his shorter legs, had difficulty in keeping up.

"Is it very far in?" Umber asked, as his robe ripped on a bramble.

"Oh yes," said Sian, smiling at Umber's discomfort, "yes, it's well hidden."

My misgivings increased. Sian was not taking the path we had followed to visit Harlow, but the one I followed in my second year to the lair of the monster Aratota. Sian had not been with me on that occasion; I doubted she had any idea what lay at the end of it.

"Er - are you sure this is the right way?" I asked her pointedly.

"Oh yes," she said in a steely voice, crashing through the undergrowth with what I thought was a wholly unnecessary amount of noise. Behind us, Umber tripped up over a fallen sapling. Sian and I grinned at his displeasure, and neither of us paused to help him up again; Sian merely strode on, calling over her shoulder, "It's a bit further in!"

"Sian, keep your voice down," I muttered, hurrying to catch up with her. "Anyone could be listening in here - "

"I want us to be heard," she answered quietly, as Umber jogged noisily after us. "You'll see ..."

We walked on for what seemed a long time, until we were once again so deep into the Forest that the dense tree canopy blocked out all light. I had the feeling I had had before in the Forest, one of being watched by unseen eyes.

"How much further?" Umber demanded angrily from behind me.

"Not far now!" Sian shouted, as we emerged into a dim, dank clearing. "Just a little bit - "

An arrow flew through the air and landed with a menacing thud in the tree just over her head. The air was suddenly full of the sound of hooves; I felt the Forest floor trembling; Umber gave a little scream and pushed me in front of him like a shield -

I wrenched myself from him and turned. Around fifty centaurs were emerging on every side, their bows raised and loaded, pointing at Sian, Umber and I. We backed slowly into the centre of the clearing, Umber uttering odd little whimpers of terror. I looked sideways at Sian, who was wearing a triumphant smile.

"Who are you?" said a voice.

I looked left. The chestnut-bodied centaur called Madara was walking towards us out of the circle: her bow, like those of the others, was raised. On my right, Umber was still whimpering, his wand trembling violently as he pointed it at the advancing centaur.

"I asked who are you, human," said Madara roughly.

"I am Democritus Umber!" said Umber is a high-pitched, terrified voice. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and Headmaster and High Inquisitor of Dragon Mort!"

"You are from the Ministry of Magic?" said Madara, as many of the centaurs in the surrounding circle shifted restlessly.

"That's right!" said Umber, in an even higher voice. "So be careful! By the laws laid down by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds such as yourselves on a human - "

" _What_ did you call us?" shouted a wild-looking black centaur, whom I recognised as Basha. There was a great deal of angry muttering and tightening of bowstrings around us.

"Don't call them that!" Sian said furiously, but Umber did not appear to have heard her. Still pointing his shaking wand at Madara, he continued, "Law Fifteen "B" states clearly that "any attack by a magical creature who is deemed to have near human intelligence, and therefore considered responsible for its actions - " "

" "Near-human intelligence"?" repeated Madara, as Basha and the several others roared with rage and pawed the ground. "We consider that a great insult, human! Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips your own."

"What are you doing in our Forest?" bellowed the hard-faced grey centaur Sian and I had seen on our last trip into the Forest. "Why are you here?"

" _Your_ Forest?" said Umber, shaking not only with fright but also, it seemed, with indignation. "I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land - "

An arrow flew so close to his head that it caught at his mousy hair in passing: he let out an ear-splitting scream and threw his hands over his head, while some of the centaurs bellowed their approval and others laughed raucously. The sound of their wild, neighing laughter echoing around the dimly lit clearing and the sight of their pawing hooves was extremely unnerving.

"Whose Forest is it now, human?" bellowed Basha.

"Filthy half-breeds!" he screamed, lowering his hands and pointing his wand back at Madara. "Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!"

And before Umber could cast a curse at Madara, Sian (rather foolishly, I thought) jumped in between the two parties, , holding out an arm to stop each of them. I don't know who looked more shocked between Umber and the centaurs, but both lowered their weapons a little. Umber was the first to recover, though.

"Stand aside, you foolish girl!"

"I will not, sir! I will stand by and protect these creatures, just as I would any human who deserved my help and protection from the likes of _you_!"

The centaurs looked even more shocked at this; they looked like they were undecided about whether they wanted to attack Sian or not. Indeed, I believe the centaurs had never known a human to defend their entire herd before.

"I am not asking you, girl, I am telling you - "

"And what makes you think I am going to answer or follow you, Professor Umber?" Sian questioned him. "I only answer to my mother, no one else!"

"So you stand by these half-breeds, do you?" Umber tried to sneer, though he was clearly intimidated by the centaurs. "You stand by these beasts, whose intelligence - "

"Yes, I do!" said Sian. "I do not care if their intelligence is higher than mine or not. What matters to me right now is defending these centaurs from the hands of a deranged mad man, who does not understand that respect must be earned, not gained, which you can achieve by not bellowing our laws in their territory, which we did not get permission to cross in the first place!"

"You were the one who brought us in here, you foolish girl!" Umber yelled at her, his eyes popping.

"What's this?" asked Basha, and the centaurs began to paw the earth again. "Our defender brought this man into our midst?"

Sian turned to face Basha then, standing tall with her head held high. "There is no excuse to make amends for what I've done, I know, and I also know that there is no apology that I can say to you that will be good enough for you to accept. Whatever punishment you have for me, I will take it, but I am trying to save you. The question is, will you let me?"

The centaurs stopped pawing the earth and looked at each other, and then at Sian, studying her closely. Finally, Madara spoke, "Never in all our years have we had a human defend our entire herd before. It is a rare thing for we centaurs to be in the debt of a human, and it is not a debt we favour. But I see that you speak wisely and with truth, and are indeed willing to accept any punishment we give you." Madara paused, studying Sian closely again. Sian remained staring at Madara without a trace of fear. I looked around at the centaurs, who were watching Madara closely, some of them playing with their bows. I was very scared for Sian, hoping that they wouldn't attack her. After what seemed like an age, Madara spoke again. "You may proceed, human girl."

Sian said nothing, but Basha did.

"You're trusting this human, Madara? This human, who led this human man here to insult our kind and attack us - "

"I am fully aware of what this human girl has done, Basha, but we must not forget that this human girl is protecting us from the human man's magical attacks." Basha looked stony, but Madara ignored her and looked back at Sian.

Sian wisely said nothing but bowed her head humbly. As she turned back to face Umber, the man himself raised his wand, pointed it at Madara and screamed, _"Incarcerous!"_

"NO!" Sian screamed, jumping in front of Madara, as ropes thick as snakes shot out of mid-air and wrapped themselves around Sian's throat. I watched, horrified, as she fell to the Forest floor, her hands around the ropes constricting her throat, trying to pull them free as she gasped for air, her limbs jerking uncontrollably.

I ran as fast as I could to Sian's side, as the centaurs charged towards Umber. I tried to wrench the ropes free, but had as much luck as Sian was having. As I was trying to help Sian, who was turning purple, I heard the centaurs bellowing and screaming with rage.

"Noooooo!" I heard Umber then shriek. "Noooooo ... I am Senior Undersecretary ... you cannot - Unhand me, you animals ... nooooo!"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of red light and knew he had attempted to Stun one of them; then he screamed very loudly. The pounding of hooves sounded close by, and looking up I saw Basha carrying Umber high above her head running into the trees.

I didn't have time to focus on the satisfaction of seeing Umber carried off, for Sian's body movements were slowing, and the ropes were cut so deeply into her skin that I was sure there would be scarring. I frantically searched around for something to cut it with, before I remembered my parents' knife. I pulled it out and, being careful not to cut her skin, I quickly sliced through the ropes that dug into Sian's neck.

As soon as they were cut, Sian took in great lungful's of air. I watched as the colour slowly returned to normal in her face. After her breathing had slowed down enough and the colour in her cheeks had returned to normal, I sat her up. She pulled out a piece of cloth and a flask that was full of some strange, sparkling blue liquid out of her robes. She then poured the sparkling blue liquid on to the cloth, and surprisingly, none of it dropped on to the Forest floor. Sian then wrapped the cloth around her neck; her eyes sparkled the same blue as the strange sparkling liquid, and the said sparkling liquid that was on the cloth glowed a little brighter for a few seconds, before it faded. Seeming satisfied with the result, Sian took off the cloth from around her neck, waved the cloth around her head so that wisps of some charcoal-black substance came off it and not one drop of the strange sparkling liquid, before she held the cloth back over the flask, where the liquid magically poured back into it, then she fastened the flask and stuck it and the cloth back inside her robes.

"Are you OK?" I asked, rubbing her back.

"I will be," Sian answered slowly, her eyes popping slightly. "Thank you, Kiara."

I smiled at her, but then we were brought back to reality by the soft pounding of hooves nearby. We looked around and saw the centaurs studying us closely. I got to my feet and helped Sian up, and the two of us watched the centaurs closely. Once again, Madara spoke.

"Never in all our years has a human ever sacrificed themselves to save our kind before. You are a very strange human indeed ... girl."

"Thank you," said Sian, "but like I said before, I would protect you just as I would any human who was in the same situation. But that does not mean that I see our races as equals, for I know that your race is far superior to ours, as you have clearly pointed out."

"Well said, human," said Madara, bowing her head. "And despite the fact that you trespassed on our land without asking us first, your bravery and courage for protecting our kind against that human shows us that you can be trusted. Therefore, human girl, we offer you one request. Use it wisely."

Sian spoke almost at once. "All I ask is that my friend and I leave here in peace. This is my only request."

Before Madara could give her answer, there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of us, Sian, myself and the fifty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. The centaurs raised their bows and arrows again as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Harlow the giantess appeared in the gap.

The centaurs nearest her backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face that was looming over us from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Harlow's lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; we saw her bricklike yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, her dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as she squinted down at the creatures at her feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.

She opened her mouth even wider.

"Meanher."

I did not know what "Meanher" meant, or what language it was from, nor did I much care; I was more focused on Harlow's feet, who were almost as long as my whole body. Sian gazed apprehensively up at Harlow; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giantess, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as she continued to peer among us as though looking for something she had dropped.

 _"Meanher!"_ she said again, more insistently.

"Get away from here, giantess!" called Madara. "You are not welcome among us!"

These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Harlow. She stooped a little (the centaurs' arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, "MEANHER!"

A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Sian, however, gave a gasp.

"Kiara!" she whispered. "I think she's trying to say "Mina"!"

At that precise moment Harlow caught sight of the two of us, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. She lowered her head another foot or so, staring intently at us. I sensed more than felt Sian shaking next to me as Harlow opened her mouth wide again and said in a deep, rumbling voice, "Sharn."

"Goodness," Sian breathed, "she - she remembered!"

"SHARN!" roared Harlow. "WHERE MEANHER?"

"I-I-I d-don't know," Sian stammered. "I'm s-sorry, Harlow, I d-d-don't know!"

"HARLOW WANT MEANHER!"

One of the giantess' massive hands reached down. Before I could pull Sian out of the way, the centaurs had started moving towards Harlow.

It was what the centaurs had been waiting for - Harlow's outstretched fingers were a foot away from me when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giantess, peppering her enormous face, causing her to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing her face with her enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper.

She yelled and stamped her enormous feet and the centaurs scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Harlow's blood showered on Sian and myself as we ran as fast as we could for the shelter of the trees. Once there we looked back; Harlow was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down her face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Sian and I watched Harlow give another roar of fury and plunged after them, smashing more trees aside as she went.

Looking out from around the tree, we saw that one centaur had remained behind; Madara was looking straight at us, her eyes fixed on Sian.

"You may leave here in peace today," she said quietly, her voice loud and clear in the small clearing, "but know this, we centaurs do not forgive, and we do not forget." Then she turned and galloped away after the rest of the herd.

Sian breathed a sigh of relief and leant against the tree for support. Then she gave a gasp of horror.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"Oh, that was horrible," Sian breathed. "And Harlow might kill them all."

"I'm not that fussed, to be honest," I said bitterly.

The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giantess grew fainter and fainter. As I listened to them, my scar gave another great throb and a wave of terror swept over me.

We had wasted so much time - we were even further from rescuing my parents than we had been when I had had the vision. Not only had I managed to lose my wand but we were stuck in the middle of the Black Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.

"Smart plan," I spat at Sian, having to release some of my fury. "Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?"

"We need to get back up to the castle," said Sian faintly.

"By the time we've done that, my parents'll probably be dead!" I said, kicking a nearby tree in temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and I looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at me.

"Well, we can't do anything without wands," said Sian hopelessly, letting go of the tree. "Anyway, Kiara, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?"

"Yeah, we were just wondering that," said a familiar voice from behind her.

Sian and I moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.

Chris and Chrissie came into sight, closely followed by Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah and Lincoln. All of them looked a little worse for wear - there were several large scratches running the length of Kestrel's cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Nikita's right eye; Keziah's left eye was puffy and swollen; Chris' lip was bleeding worse than ever and Chrissie's nose looked broken - but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

"So," said Chris, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out my wand, "had any ideas?"

"How did you get away?" I asked in amazement, taking my wand from Chris.

"Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Nikita brought off a nice little Impediment Jinx, and Keziah took down Malty," said Chrissie airily, now handing Sian her wand. "But Chris was the best, he got Crate - Bat-Bogey Hex - it was superb, her whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What've you done with Umber?"

"He got carried away," I said. "By a herd of centaurs."

"And they left you behind?" said Chris, looking astonished.

"Not exactly," said Sian. "It's a long story, but they got chased off by Harlow."

"Who's Harlow?" Lincoln asked interestedly.

"Mina's little sister," said Chrissie promptly. "Anyway, never mind that now. Kiara, what did you find out in the fire? Has She-You-Know got Simba and Nala or - ?"

"Yes," I said, as my scar gave another painful prickle, "and I'm sure my parents are still alive, but I can't aww how we're going to get there to help them."

We all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing us seemed insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" said Lincoln, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice I had ever heard him use.

"OK," I said irritably, rounding on him. "First of all, _"we"_ aren't doing anything if you're including yourself in that, and second of all, Chris and Chrissie are the only two people here with broomsticks that aren't being guarded by a security troll, so - "

"Look Kiara, we're all here, we're all with you - except for Kestrel," Sian added.

Kestrel was shocked. "What? But Sian - "

"Sweetie, I'm sorry," said Sian, "but I'm the eldest, and as the eldest it's my job to make sure that my youngest siblings stay out of danger, and that's why you're staying behind. Besides, you're - "

"Oh, don't give me the "you're too young" crap," said Kestrel, which made Sian's jaw drop. "I'm three years older than Kiara was when she fought She-You-Know over the Mirror of Wishes, and - "

"Yeah, but - "

"We were all in the CA together," said Nikita quietly. "It was all supposed to be about fighting She-You-Know, wasn't it? And this is the first chance we've had to do something real - or was that all just a game or something?"

"No - of course it wasn't - " I said impatiently.

"Then we should come too," said Nikita simply. "We want to help."

"That's right," said Lincoln, smiling happily.

"I took down my own cousin for you, doesn't that mean anything?" said Keziah, earning her a lot of strange looks.

My eyes met Chrissie's. I knew Chrissie was thinking exactly what I was: if I could have chosen any members of the CA, in addition to myself Chris, Sian and Chrissie, to join me in the attempt to rescue my parents, I would not have picked Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah or Lincoln.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anything," I said through gritted teeth, "because we still don't know how to get there - "

"I thought we'd settled that," said Lincoln maddeningly. "We're flying!"

"Look," said Chrissie, barely containing her anger, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings whenever we - "

"There are ways of flying other than broomsticks," said Lincoln serenely.

"Oh, I s'pose we're going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?" Chris demanded.

"The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can't fly," said Lincoln in a dignified voice, "but _they_ can, and Mina says they're very good at finding places their riders are looking for."

I wheeled round. Standing between two trees, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation as though they understood every word.

"Yes," I whispered, moving towards them. They turned their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and I stretched out my hand eagerly and patted the nearest one's shining neck; I didn't know how I ever found them ugly.

"Is it those mad horse things?" said Chrissie uncertainly, staring at a place slightly to the left of the Thestral I was patting. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," I said.

"How many?"

"Just two."

"Well, we need four," said Sian, who was still looking a little shaken but determined just the same.

"Five, Sian," said Kestrel, scowling.

"I think there are eight of us, actually," said Lincoln calmly, counting.

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" I said angrily. "Look, you four - " I pointed at Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah and Lincoln, "you're not involved in this, you're not - "

They burst into angry protests. My scar gave another, more painful, twinge. Every moment we delayed was precious; I did not have time to argue.

"OK, fine, it's your choice," I said curtly, "but unless we can find more Thestrals you're not going to be able - "

"Oh, more of them will come," said Chris confidently, who like Chrissie was squinting in the wrong direction, apparently under the impression that he was looking at the horses.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because, in case you hadn't noticed, you and Sian are both covered in blood," he said coolly, "and we know Mina lures Thestrals with raw meat. That's probably why these two turned up in the first place."

I felt a soft tug on my robes at that moment and I looked down to see the closest Thestral licking my sleeve, which was damp with Harlow's blood.

"OK, then," I said, a bright idea occurring, "Chrissie and I will take these two and go ahead, and Sian can stay here with you five and she'll attract more Thestrals - "

"I'm not staying behind!" said Sian furiously.

"Me neither!" said Chris.

"There's no need," said Lincoln, smiling. "Look, here come more now ... you two must really smell ..."

I turned: no fewer than seven or eight Thestrals were picking their way through the trees, their great leathery wings folded tight to their bodies, their eyes gleaming through the darkness. I had no excuse now.

"All right," I said angrily, "pick one and get on."

 **AN: OK, so I know the thing with the centaurs is quite different here, but I think it's better. I have to admit that I did struggle with the centaurs' thoughts during this chapter, but I think I did it justice, and I hope that you all liked it, too. More still to come.**


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

 **The Department of Mysteries**

 **KIARA**

I wound my hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horse's silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to continue its eager licking of my robes.

I found there was a way of lodging my knees behind the wing joints that made me feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Nikita had heaved herself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one leg over the creature's back. Lincoln was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting his robes as though he did this every day. Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Kestrel and Keziah, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

"What?" I said.

"How're we supposed to get on?" said Chris faintly. "When we can't see the things?"

"Oh, it's easy," said Lincoln, sliding obligingly from his Thestral and marching over to him, Sian, Chrissie, Kestrel and Keziah. "Come here ..."

He pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All five looked extremely nervous as he wound their hands into their horse's mane and told them to grip tightly before he got back on to his own steed.

"This is mad," Chrissie murmured, moving her free hand gingerly up and down her horse's neck. "Mad ... if I could just see it - "

"You'd better hope it stays invisible," I said darkly. "We all ready, then?"

They all nodded and I saw seven pairs of knees tighten beneath their robes.

"OK ..."

I looked down at the back of my Thestral's glossy black head and swallowed.

"Ministry of Magic, visitors' entrance, London, then," I said uncertainly. "Er ... if you know ... where to go ..."

For a moment my Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unsettled me, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that I had to clench my arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. I closed my eyes and pressed my face down into the horse's silky mane as we burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

I did not think I had ever moved so fast: the Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating; the cooling air slapped against my face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, I looked round and saw my seven fellows soaring along behind me, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestral to protect themselves from my slipstream.

We were over the Dragon Mort grounds, we had passed Dragsmede; I saw mountains and gullies below us. As the sky began to darken, I saw that we were crossing over the sea, where the first early stars were reflected like diamonds on the smooth surface of the ocean water ...

"This is bizarre!" I heard Chrissie yell from somewhere behind me, and I imagined how it must feel to be speeding along at this height with no visible means of support.

Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars in England, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave us any clue of how far from the ground we were, or how very fast we were travelling. My arms were wrapped tightly around my horse's neck as I willed it to go even faster. How much time had lapsed since I had seen my parents lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would my parents be able to resist Zira? All I knew for sure was that my parents had neither done what Zira wanted, nor died, for I was convinced that either outcome would have caused me to feel Zira's jubilation of fury course through my own body, making my scar as painfully as it had on the night Mr Dawson was attacked.

On we flew through the gathering darkness; my face felt stiff and cold, and my legs numb from gripping the Thestral's sides so tightly, but I did not dare shift my position lest I slip ... I was deaf from the thundering rush of air in my ears, and my mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. I had lost all sense of how far e had come; all my faith was in the beast beneath me, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

If we were too late ...

 _They're still alive, they're still fighting, I can feel it ..._

If Zira decided my parents were not going to crack ...

 _I'd know ..._

My stomach then gave a jolt; the Thestral's head suddenly pointed towards the ground and I actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. We were descending at last ... I thought I heard a shriek behind me and twisted around dangerously, but I saw no sign of a falling body ... presumably they had all received a shock from the change of direction, just as I had.

And now bright orange lights were growing larger and rounder on all sides; we saw the tops of buildings, streams of headlights like luminous insect eyes, squares of pale yellow that were windows. Quite suddenly, it seemed, we were hurtling towards the pavement; I gripped the Thestral with every last ounce of my strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touched the dark ground as lightly as a shadow and I dismounted gracefully from its back, looking around the street where the overflowing skip still stood a short way from the vandalised telephone box, both drained of colour in the flat orange glare of the streetlights.

Chrissie landed a short way off and toppled immediately from her Thestral on to the pavement.

"Never again," she said, struggling to her feet. She made as though to stride away from her Thestral, but, unable to see it, collided with its hindquarters and almost fell over again. "Never, ever again ... that was the worst - "

Chris and Sian touched down on either side of her; both slid off their mounts a little more gracefully than Chrissie, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground; Nikita jumped down, shaking; Keziah rolled right off of hers; and Lincoln dismounted smoothly.

"Where do we go from here, then?" he asked me in a pointedly interested voice, as though this was all an interesting day-trip.

"Over here," I said. I gave my Thestral a quick, gentle pat, then led the way quickly to the battered telephone box and opened the door. "Come _on_!" I urged the others, as they hesitated.

Chris, Sian and Chrissie marched in obediently; Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah and Lincoln squashed themselves in after them; I took one glance back at the Thestrals, now foraging for scraps of rotten food inside the skip, then forced myself in the box after Lincoln.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" I said.

Chrissie did it, her arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial; as it whirred back into place the cool female voice sounded inside the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Kiara Pride-Lander, Chris Rickers, Sian Dawson, Chrissie Dawson, Kestrel Dawson, Nikita Bore, Keziah Rea-Bradley, Lincoln Lovedream ... we're here to save a couple of people, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes."

Half a dozen badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins normally appeared. Sian awkwardly scooped them up and handed them mutely to me over Chris' head; I glanced at the topmost one, _Kiara Pride-Lander, Rescue Mission_.

"Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" I said loudly, as my scar gave another throb. "Now can we _move_?"

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavements rose up past its glass windows; the scavenging Thestrals slid out of sight; blackness closed over our heads and with a dull grinding noise we sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.

A chink of soft golden light hit our feet and, widening, rose up our bodies. I bent my knees and held my wand as ready as I could in such cramped conditions as I peered through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for us in the Atrium, but it seemed to be completely empty. The light was dimmer than it had been by day; there were no fires burning under the mantel-pieces set into the walls, but as the lift slid smoothly to halt I saw that the golden symbols continued to twist sinuously in the dark blue ceiling.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box burst open; I toppled out of it, closely followed by Nikita and Lincoln. The only sound in the Atrium was the steady rust of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of Harry, Ron and Hermione continued to gush into the surrounding pool.

"Come on," I said quietly, and the eight of us sprinted off down the hall, with myself in the lead, past the fountain towards the desk where the watchwitch who had weighed my wand had sat, and which was now deserted.

I felt sure there ought to be a security person there, sure our absence was an ominous sign, and my feeling of foreboding increased as we passed through the golden gates to the lifts. I pressed the nearest "down" button and a lift clattered into sight almost immediately, the golden grilles slid apart with a great, echoing clang and we dashed inside. I stabbed the number nine button; the grilles closed with a bang and the lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. I had not realised how noisy the lifts were on the day I had come with Grandmother Sarabi and Mr Dawson; I was sure the din would raise every security person within the building, yet when the lift halted, the cool female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open. We stepped out into the corridor where nothing moved but the nearest torches, flickering in the rust of air from the lift.

I turned towards the plain black door. After months and months of dreaming about it, I was there at last.

"Let's go," I whispered, and I led the way down the corridor, Lincoln right behind me, gazing around with his mouth slightly open.

"OK, listen," I said, stopping again within six feet of the door. "Maybe ... maybe a couple of people should stay here as - as a lookout, and - "

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" said Chris incredulously. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Kiara," said Nikita.

"Let's do this," said Chrissie firmly.

I still did not want to take them all with me, but it seemed I had no choice. I turned to face the door and walked forwards ... just as it had in my dream, it swung open and I marched over the threshold, the others at my heels.

We were standing in a large, circular room. Everything in there was black including the floor and ceiling; identical, unmarked, handless black doors were set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," I muttered.

I regretted giving this order the moment Nikita had obeyed it. Without the long chink of light from the torchlit corridor behind us, the place became so dark that for a moment the only things we could see were the branches of shivering blue flames on the walls and our ghostly reflections on the floor.

In my dream, I had always walked purposefully across this room to the door immediately opposite the entrance and walked on. But there were around a dozen doors here. Just as I was gazing ahead at the doors opposite to me, trying to decide which was the right one, there was a great rumbling noise and the candles began to move sideways. The circular wall was rotating.

I heard a few people gasp behind me, as though afraid that the floor might move, too, but it did not. For a few seconds, but the blue flames around us were blurred to resemble neon lines as the wall sped around; then, quite as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling stopped and everything became stationary once again.

My eyes had blue streaks burned into them; it was all I could see.

"What was that about?" whispered Chrissie fearfully.

"I think it was to stop us knowing which door we came through," said Chris in a hushed voice.

I realised at once that he was right: I could no sooner identify the exit door than locate an ant on the jet-black floor, and the door through which we needed to proceed could be any one of the dozen which surrounded us.

"How're we going to get back out?" said Nikita uncomfortably.

"Well, that doesn't matter now," I said forcefully, blinking to try to erase the blue lines from my vision, and clutching my wand tighter than ever, "we won't need to get out 'til we've found my parents - "

"Don't go calling for them, though!" Sian said urgently, but I had never needed her advice less; my instinct was to keep as quiet as possible.

"Where do we go, then, Kiara?" Chrissie asked.

"I don't - " I began. I swallowed. "In the dreams I went through the door at the end of the corridor from the lifts into a dark room - that's this one - and then I went through another door into a room that kind of ... glitters. We should try a few doors," I said hastily, "I'll know the right way when I see it. C'mon."

I marched straight at the door now facing me, the others following close behind me, set my left hand against its cool, shining surface, raised my wand ready to strike the moment it opened, and pushed.

It swung open easily.

After the darkness of the first room, the lamps hanging low on golden chains from this ceiling gave the impression that this long rectangular room was much brighter, though there were no glittering, shimmering lights as I had seen in my dreams. The place was quite empty except for a few desks and, in the very middle of the room, an enormous glass tank of deep green liquid, big enough for all of us to swim in; a number of pearly-white objects were drifting lazily in it.

"What're these things supposed to be?" whispered Chrissie.

"Dunno," I said.

"Are they fish?" breathed Chris.

"Aquavirius Maggots!" said Lincoln excitedly. "Mammy said the Ministry were breeding - "

"No," said Sian. She sounded odd. She moved forward to look through the side of the tank. "They're brains."

 _"Brains?"_

"Yes ... I wonder what they're doing with them?"

I joined her at the tank. Sure enough, there could be no mistake now I saw them at close quarters. Glimmering eerily, they drifted in and out of sight in the depths of the green liquid, looking something like slimy cauliflowers.

"Let's get out of here," I said. "This isn't right, we need to try another door."

"There are doors here, too," said Kestrel, pointing around the walls. My heart sank; how big was this place?

"In my dream went through that dark, circular room into the second one," I said. "I think we should go back and try from those."

So we hurried back into the dark, circular room; the ghostly shapes of the brains swam before my eyes instead of the blue candle flames.

"Wait!" said Sian sharply, as Lincoln made to close the door of the brain room behind us. _"Flagrate!"_

She drew with her wand in mid-air and a fiery "X" appeared on the door. No sooner had the door clicked shut behind us than there was a great rumbling, and once again the wall began to revolve every fast, but now there was a red-gold blur in amongst the blue and, when all became still again, the fiery cross still burned, showing the door we had already tried.

"Good thinking," I said. "OK, let's try this one - "

Again, I strode directly at the door facing me and pushed it open, my wand still raised, the others at my heels.

This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet deep. We were stood on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in stone steps like an amphitheatre, or the courtroom in which I had been tried by the Wizengamot. Instead of a chained chair, however, there was a raised stone dais in the centre of the pit, on which stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked and crumbling that I was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.

"Who's there?" I said, jumping down on to the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway.

"Careful!" whispered Sian.

I scrambled down the benches one by one until I reached the stone bottom of the sunken pit. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked slowly towards the dais. The pointed archway looked much taller from where I stood than it had when I'd been looking down on it from above. Still the veil swayed gently, as though somebody had just passed through it.

"Daddy? Mum?" I spoke again, but more quietly now that I was nearer.

I then had the strangest feeling that someone was standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. Gripping my wand very tightly, I edged around the dais, but there was nobody there; all that could be seen was the other side of the tattered black veil.

"Let's go," called Sian from halfway up the stone steps. "This isn't right, Kiara, come on, let's go."

She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet I thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued me; I felt a very strong inclination to climb upon the dais and walk through it.

"Kiara, let's go, OK?" said Sian more forcefully.

"OK," I said, but I did not move. I had just heard something. There were faint whispering, muttering noises coming from the other side of the veil.

"What are you saying?" I said very loudly, so that my words echoed all around the stone benches.

"Nobody's talking, Kiara!" said Sian, moving over to me.

"Someone's whispering behind there," I said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. "Is that you, Chris? Chrissie?"

"We're here, Kiara," said Chris, appearing around the side of the archway, with Chrissie appearing a second later with her head above his, grinning and waving at me. She only faltered in doing this when she sensed Chris glaring at her. Chrissie stopped and looked at Chris questioningly. He glared at her. I ignored them.

"Can anyone else hear it?" I demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, I found my foot on the dais.

"I can hear them too," breathed Lincoln, joining us around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. "There are people _in there_!"

"What do you mean, _"in there"_?" demanded Sian, jumping down from the bottom step and sounding much angrier than the occasion warranted. "There isn't any _"in there"_ , it's just an empty archway, there's no room for anybody to be there. Kiara, stop it, come away - "

She grabbed at my arm and pulled, but I resisted.

"Kiara, focus here! We are supposed to be here for your parents, remember?" said Sian firmly.

"My parents," I repeated, still gazing, mesmerised, at the continuously swaying veil. "Yeah ..."

Something finally slid into my brain; _my parents_ , captured, bound and tortured, and I was staring at this archway ...

I took several paces back from the dais and wrenched my eyes from the veil.

"Let's go," I said.

"That's what I've been trying to - well, come on, then!" said Sian, and she led the way back around the dais. On the other side, Kestrel, Nikita and Keziah were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too. Without speaking, Sian took one of Kestrel's arms in one hand, and one of Keziah's in the other, Chrissie grabbed Nikita's, and they marched them firmly back to the lowest stone bench and clambered all the way back up to the door.

"What d'you reckon that arch was?" I asked Sian as we regained the dark circular room.

"I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous," she said firmly, again inscribing a fiery cross on the door.

Once more, the wall span and became still again. I approached another door at random and pushed.

It did not move.

"What's wring?" said Sian.

"It's ... locked ..." I said, throwing my weight at the door, but it did not budge.

"This is it, then, isn't it?" said Chrissie excitedly, both she and Chris joining me in the attempt to force the door open. "Bound to be!"

"Get out of the way!" said Sian sharply. She pointed her wand at the place where a lock would have been on an ordinary door and said, _"Alohomora!"_

Nothing happened.

"My parents' knife!" I said. I pulled it out from inside my robes and slid it into the crack between the door and the wall. The others all watched eagerly as I ran it from top to bottom, withdrew it and then flung my shoulder again at the door. It remained as firmly shut as ever. What was more, when I looked down at the knife, I saw the blade had melted.

"Right, we're leaving that room," said Sian decisively.

"But what if that's the one?" said Chrissie, staring at it with a mixture of apprehension and longing.

"It can't be, Kiara could get through all the other doors in her dream," said Sian, marking the door with another fiery cross as I replaced the now-useless handle of my parents' knife in my pocket.

"You know what could be in there?" said Lincoln eagerly, as the wall started to spin yet again.

"Something blibbering, no doubt," said Sian under her breath; Keziah snorted and Nikita gave a nervous laugh.

The wall slid to a halt and, with a feeling of increased determination, I pushed the next door open.

 _"This is it!"_

I knew it at once by the beautiful, dancing diamond-sparkling light. As my eyes became accustomed to the brilliant glare, I saw clocks gleaming from every surface, large and small, grandfather and carriage, hanging in spaces between the bookcases and standing on desks ranging the length of the room, so that a busy, relentless ticking filled the place like thousands of miniscule, marching footsteps. The source of the dancing, diamond-bright light was a towering crystal bell at that stood at the far end of the room.

"This way!"

My heart was pumping frantically now that I knew we were on the right track; I led the way down the narrow space between the lines of desks, heading, as I had done in my dream, for the source of the light, the crystal bell jar quite as tall as I was that stood on a desk and appeared to be full of a billowing, glittering wind.

"Oh, _look_!" said Kestrel as we drew nearer, pointing at the very heart of the bell jar.

Drifting along in the sparkling current inside was a tiny, jewel-bright egg. As it rose in the jar, it cracked open and a humming-bird emerged, which was carried to the very top of the jar, but as it fell on the draught its feathers becamed bedraggled and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg.

"Keep going!" I said sharply, because Kestrel showed signs of wanting to stop and watch the egg's progress back into a bird.

"You dawdled enough by that old arch!" she said crossly, but followed me past the bell jar to the only door behind it.

"This is it," I said again, and my heart was now pumping so hard and so fast that I felt it must interfere with my speech, "it's through here - "

I glanced around at them all; they had their wands out and looked suddenly serious and anxious. I looked back at the door and pushed. It swung open.

We were there, we had found the place: high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle-brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Like those in the circular room behind us, their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

I edged forwards and peered down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. I did not hear anything or even saw the slightest sign of movement.

"You said it was row one hundred and seven," whispered Sian.

"Yeah," I breathed, looking up at the end of the closest row. Beneath the branch of blue-glowing candles protruding from it glimmered the silver figure fifty-three.

"We need to go right, I think," whispered Sian, squinting to the next row. "Yes ... that's fifty-four ..."

"Keep your wands ready," I said softly.

We crept forwards, glancing behind us as we went on down the long alleys of shelves, the further ends of which were in near-total darkness. Tiny, yellowing labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelves. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within as blown light bulbs.

We passes row ninety-four ... ninety-five ... I listened hard for the slightest sound of movement, but my parents could be gagged now, or else unconscious ... _or_ , said an unbidden voice inside my head, _the might already be dead_ ...

I'd have felt it, I told myself, my heart hammering in my throat, I'd already know ...

"One hundred and seven!" whispered Sian.

We stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody there.

"They're right down at the end," I said, as my mouth became slightly dry. "You can't see properly from here."

And I led them between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as we passed ...

"We should be near here," I whispered (foolishly) convinced that every step was going to bring the ragged forms of my dear mother and father into view on the darkened floor. "Anywhere here ... really close ..."

"Kiara?" said Sian tentatively, but I did not want to respond. My mouth was very dry.

"Somewhere about ... here ..." I said.

We had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there. All was echoing, dusty silence.

"They might be ..." I whispered hoarsely, peering down the next alley. "Or maybe ..." I hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Kiara?" said Sian again.

"What?" I snarled.

"I ... I don't think your parents are here."

None of us spoke. I did not want to look at any of them. I felt sick. I did not understand why my parents were not there. They had to be there. This was where I, Kiara, their daughter, had seen them ...

I ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Empty aisle after empty aisle flickered past. I ran the other way, past my staring companions. There was no sign of my father or mother anywhere, nor any hint of a struggle.

"Kiara?" Chrissie called.

"What?"

I did not want to hear what Chrissie had to say; I did not want to hear she or Chris tell me that I had been stupid or suggest that we ought to go back to Dragon Mort, but the heat rose in my face and I felt as though I would like to skulk down there in the darkness for a long while before facing the brightness of the Atrium above and the others' accusing voices ...

"Have you seen this?" said Chrissie.

"What?" I said, but eagerly this time - it had to be a sign that my parents had been there, a clue. I strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row one hundred and seven, but found nothing except Chrissie staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelf.

"What?" I repeated glumly.

"It's - it's got your name on," said Chrissie.

I moved a little closer. Chrissie was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light, though it was very dusty and appeared not to have been touched for many years.

"My name?" I said blankly.

I stepped forwards. Slightly taller than Chrissie, I did not have to crane my neck in order to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that:

 _C.C.C to S.L.J.W.C._

 _Scarlet Lady_

 _and (?) Kiara Pride-Lander_

I stared at it.

"What is it?" Chrissie asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?"

She glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf.

"I'm not here," she said, sounding perplexed. "None of the rest of us are here."

"Kiara, I don't think you should touch it," said Sian sharply, as I stretched out my hand.

"Why not?" I said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't, Kiara," said Nikita suddenly. I looked at her. Nikita's round face shone slightly with sweat. She looked as though she could not take much more suspense.

"It's got my name on," I said.

And feeling slightly reckless, I closed my fingers around the dusty ball's surface. I had expected it to feel cold, but it did not. On the contrary, it felt as though it had been lying in the sun for hours, as though the glow of light within was warming it. Expecting, even hoping, that something dramatic was going to happen, something exciting that might make our long and dangerous journey worthwhile after all, I lifted the glass ball down from its shelf and stared at it.

Nothing whatsoever happened. The others moved in closer around me, gazing at the orb as I brushed it free of clogging dust.

And then, from right behind us, a drawling voice spoke.

"Very good, Pride-Lander. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

 **Beyond the Veil**

 **KIARA**

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around us, blocking our way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit wand tips were pointed directly at our hearts; Keziah gave a gasp of horror.

"To me, Pride-Lander," repeated the drawling voice of Narissa Malty as she held out her hand, palm up.

My insides plummeted sickeningly. We were trapped, and outnumbered two to one.

"To me," said Malty yet again.

"Where're my parents?" I said.

Several of the Love Destroyers laughed; a harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to my left said triumphantly, "The Scarlet Lady always knows!"

"Always," echoed Malty softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Pride-Lander."

"I want to know where my parents are!"

 _"I want to know where my parents are!"_ mimicked the woman to my left.

She and her fellow Love Destroyers had closed in so that they were mere feet away from myself and the others, the light from their wands dazzling my eyes.

"You've got them," I said, ignoring the rising panic in my chest, the dread I had been fighting since we had first entered the one hundred and seventh row. "They're here. I know they are."

 _"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was two,"_ said the woman in a horrible, mock baby voice. I felt Chrissie stir beside me.

"Don't do anything," I murmured. "Not yet - "

The woman who had mimicked me let out a raucous scream of laughter.

"You hear her? _You hear her?_ Giving instructions to the other children as though she thinks of fighting us!"

"Oh, you don't know Pride-Lander like I do, Karalina," said Malty softly. "She has a great weakness for heroics; the Scarlet Lady understands this about her. _Now give me the prophecy, Pride-Lander._ "

"I know my parents are here," I said, though panic was causing my chest to constrict and I felt as though I could not breathe properly. "I know you've got them!"

More of the Love Destroyers laughed, though the woman laughed loudest of all.

"It's time you learned the difference between reality and dreams, Pride-Lander," said Malty. "Now give me the prophecy, or we'll start using wands."

"Go on, then," I said, raising my own wand to chest height. As I did so, the seven wand of Chris, Sian, Chrissie, Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah and Lincoln rose on either side of me. The knot in my stomach tightened. If my parents were not there, I had led my friends to their deaths for no reason at all ...

But the Love Destroyers did not strike.

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," said Malty coolly.

It was my turn to laugh.

"Yeah, right!" I said. "I give you this - prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?"

The words were hardly out of my mouth when the harsh-sounding female Love Destroyer said, _"Accio Proph - "_

I was just ready for her: I shouted _"Protego!"_ before she had finished her spell, and though the glass sphere slipped to the tips of my fingers I managed to cling on to it.

"Oh, she knows how to play, itty bitty baby Pride-Lander," she said, her mad eyes staring through the slits in her hood. "Very well, then - "

"I TOLD YOU, NO!" Narissa Malty roared at the woman. "If you smash it - !"

My mind was racing. The Love Destroyers wanted this dusty spun-glass sphere. I had no interest in it. I just wanted to get them all out of this alive, to make sure none of my friends paid a terrible price for my stupidity ...

The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Katalina Outsider's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with a feverish, fanatical glow. At the sight of her, someone behind me gave a sharp gasp and seemed to hide and cower behind me.

"You need more persuasion?" she said, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well - take the boy standing next to her," she ordered the Love Destroyer beside her. "Let her watch while we torture the little boy. I'll do it."

I felt the others close in around Chris; I stepped sideways so that I was standing right in front of him, the prophecy held up to my chest.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," I told Katalina. "I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will she?"

She did not move; she merely stared at me, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," I said, "what kind of prophecy are we talking about, anyway?"

I could not think of what to do but to keep talking. Nikita's arm was pressed against mine, and I felt her shaking; I could also feel one of the other's quickened breath on the back of my head. I was hoping they were all thinking hard about ways to get out of this, because my mind was blank.

"What kind of prophecy?" repeated Katalina, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Kiara Pride-Lander?"

"Nope, not jesting," I said, my eyes flicking from Love Destroyer to Love Destroyer, looking for a weak link, a space through which we could escape. "How come Zira wants it?"

Several of the Love Destroyers let out low hisses.

"You dare speak her name?" whispered Katalina.

"Yeah," I said, maintaining my grip on the glass ball, expecting another attempt to bewitch it from me. "Yeah, I've got no problem with saying Zi - "

"Shut your mouth!" Katalina shrieked. "You dare speak her name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare - "

"Did you know she's a half-blood too?" I said recklessly. Sian gave a little ragged breathy moan in my ear. "Zira? Yeah, her father was a wizard but her mother was a Muggle - or has she been telling you lot she's pure-blood?"

 _"STUPEF - "_

 _"NO!"_

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Katalina Outsider's wand, but Malty had deflected it; her spell caused Outsider's to hit the shelf a foot to the left of me and several of the glass orbs there shattered.

Two figures, pearly-white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak; their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Malty and Katalina's shouts.

 _" ... from the dust shall rise a new era ..."_ said the figure of an old woman.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"She dared - she dares - " shrieked Katalina incoherently, "she stands there - filthy half-blood - "

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" bawled Malty.

 _" ... a hard life lies ahead ..."_ said the figure of a wise, bald old man.

The two figures that had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but the fragments of glass upon the floor. They had, however, given me an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.

"You haven't told me what's so special about this prophecy I'm supposed to be handing over," I said, playing for time. I moved my foot sideways, feeling around for someone else's.

"Do not play games with us, Pride-Lander," said Malty.

"I'm not playing games," I said, half my mind on the conversation, half on my wandering foot. And then I found someone's toes and pressed down upon them. A sharp intake of breath behind me told me they were Sian's.

"What?" she whispered.

"Crighton never told you the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Malty sneered.

"I - what?" I said. And for a moment I quite forgot my plan. "What about my scar?"

 _"What?"_ whispered Sian more urgently behind me.

"Can this be?" said Malty, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Love Destroyers laughed again, and under cover of their laughter, I hissed to Sian, moving my lips as little as possible, "Smash shelves - "

"Crighton never told you?" Malty repeated. "Well, this explains why you didn't come earlier, Pride-Lander, the Scarlet Lady wondered why - "

" - when I say _now_ \- "

" - you didn't come running when she showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. She thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording ..."

"Did she?" I said. Behind me I felt rather than heard Sian passing the message to the others and I sought to keep talking, to distract the Love Destroyers. "So she wanted me to come and get it, did she? Why?"

 _"Why_?" Malty sounded incredulously delighted. "Because the only people who are permitted to retrieve a prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, Pride-Lander, are those about whom it was made, as the Scarlet Lady discovered when she attempted to use others to steal it for her."

"And why did she want to steal a prophecy about me?"

"About both of you, Pride-Lander, about both of you ... haven't you ever wondered why the Scarlet Lady tried to kill you as a baby?"

I stared through the slitted eye-holes through which Malty's grey eyes were gleaming. I then asked myself, was this prophecy the reason Zira tried to kill my parents, the reason I carried my flame-shaped scar? Was the answer to all of this clutched in my hand?

"Someone made a prophecy about Zira and me?" I said quietly, gazing at Narissa Malty, my fingers tightening over the warm glass sphere in my hand. It was hardly larger than a Snitch and still gritty with dust. "And she's made me come and get it for her? Why couldn't she come and get it herself?"

"Get it herself?" shrieked Katalina, over a cackle of mad laughter. "The Scarlet Lady, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring her return? The Scarlet Lady, reveal herself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin's dearest friends?"

"So, she's got you dong her dirty work for her, has she?" I said. "Like she tried to get Simone to steal it - and Bass?"

"Very good, Pride-Lander, very good ..." said Malty slowly. "But the Scarlet Lady knows you are not unintell - "

"NOW!" I yelled.

Seven different voices behind me bellowed, _"REDUCTO!"_ Seven curses flew in seven different directions and the shelves opposite us exploded as they hit; the towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart; pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood that was raining down upon the floor -

"RUN!" I yelled, as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to fall from above. I seized a handful of Chris' robes and dragged him forwards, holding one arm over my head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon us. A Love Destroyer lunged forwards through the cloud of dust and I elbowed her hard in the masked face; we were all yelling, there were cries of pain, and thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon ourselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres -

I found the way ahead clear and saw Chrissie, Kestrel, Lincoln and Keziah sprint past me, their arms over their heads; something heavy struck me on the side of my face but I merely ducked my head and sprinted onwards; a hand caught me by the shoulder; I heard Chris shout out, _"Stupefy!"_ The hand released me at once -

We were at the end of row one hundred and seven; I turned right and began to sprint in earnest; I heard footsteps right behind me and Sian's voice urging Nikita on; straight ahead, the door through which we had come was ajar; I saw the glittering light of the bell jar; I pelted through the doorway, the prophecy still clutched tight and safe in my hand, and waited for the others to hurtle over the threshold before I slammed the door behind me -

 _"Colloportus!"_ gasped Sian, and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where - where are the others?" I gasped.

I had thought Chrissie, Kestrel, Lincoln and Keziah were ahead of us, that they would be waiting in this room, but there was nobody there.

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispered Sian, terror in her face.

"Listen!" whispered Chris.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door we had just sealed; I put my ear close to the door to listen and heard Narissa Malty roar, "Leave Nechi, _leave her, I say_ \- her injuries will be nothing to the Scarlet Lady compared to losing that prophecy. Jackson, come back here, we need to organise! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Pride-Lander until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary - Katalina, Nuka, you take the left; Crate, Roberta, go right - Jackson, Dali, the door straight ahead - Magro and Aakster, through here - Roscoe, over there - Murgia, come with me!"

"What do we do!" Chris asked me, looking at me desperately.

"Well, we don't stand around waiting for them to find us for a start," I said. "Let's get away from this door."

We ran as quietly as we could, past the shimmering bell jar where the tiny egg was hatching and unhatching, towards the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. We were almost there when I heard something large and heavy collide with the door Sian had charmed shut.

"Stand aside!" said a rough voice. _"Alohomora!"_

As the door flew open, Chris, Sian, Nikita and I dived under the desks. We saw the bottom of the two Love Destroyers' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

"They might've run straight through to the hall," said the rough voice.

"Check under the desks," said another.

I saw the knees of the Love Destroyers bend; poking my wand out from under the desk, I shouted, _"STUPEFY!"_

A jet of red light hit the nearest Love Destroyer; she fell backwards into a grandfather clock and knocked it over; the second Love Destroyer, however, had leapt aside to avoid my spell and was pointing her own wand at Chris and Sian, who were both crawling out from under the desk to get a better aim.

 _"Avada - "_

I launched myself across the floor and grabbed the Love Destroyer around the knees, causing her to topple and her aim to go awry. Nikita overturned a desk in her anxiety to help; and pointing her wand wildly at the scuffle myself and the Love Destroyer were in, she cried:

 _"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Both mine and the Love Destroyer's wands flew out of our hands and soared back towards the entrance to the Hall of Prophecy; we both scrambled back to our feet and charged after them, the Love Destroyer in front with me hot on her heels, and Nikita bringing up the rear, plainly horrorstruck by what she had done.

"Get out of the way, Kiara!" yelled Nikita, clearly determined to repair the damage.

I flung myself sideways as Nikita took aim again and shouted:

 _"STUPEFY!"_

The jet of red light flew over the Love Destroyer's shoulder and hit a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped pocket-watches; the cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere, sprang back up to the wall, fully mended, then fell down again, and shattered -

The Love Destroyer had snatched up her wand, which lay on the floor beside the glittering bell jar. I ducked down behind another desk as the woman turned; her mask had slipped so that she couldn't see. She ripped it off with her free hand and shouted: _"STUP - "_

 _"STUPEFY!"_ shouted Chris, he and Sian having just caught up with us. The jet of red light hit the Love Destroyer in the middle of her chest: she froze, her arm still raised, her wand fell to the floor with a clatter and she collapsed backwards towards the bell jar. I expected to hear a _clunk_ , for the woman to hit solid glass and slide off the jar on to the floor, but instead, her head sank through the surface of the bell jar as though it were nothing but a soap bubble and she came to rest, sprawled on her back on the table, with her head lying inside the jar full of glittering wind.

 _"Accio wand!"_ cried Sian. My wand flew from a dark corner into her hand and she threw it to me.

"Thanks," I said. "Right, let's get out of - "

"Look out!" said Nikita, horrified. She was staring at the Love Destroyer's head in the bell jar.

The four of us raised our wands again, but none of us struck: we were all gazing, open-mouthed, appalled, at what was happening to the woman's head.

It was shrinking very fast, growing balder and balder, the black hair retracting into her skull; her cheeks becoming smooth, her skull round and covered with a peachlike fuzz ...

A baby's head now sat grotesquely on top of the thick, muscled neck of the Love Destroyer as she struggled to get up again; but even as we watched, our mouths open, the head began to swell to its previous proportions again; thick black hair was sprouting from the plate ...

"It's time," said Sian in an awestruck voice. _"Time ..."_

The Love Destroyer shook her ugly head again, trying to clear it, but before she could pull herself together, it began to shrink back to babyhood once more ...

There was a shout from nearby, then a crash and a scream.

"CHRISSIE?" I yelled, turning quickly from the monstrous transformation taking place before us. "KESTREL? LINCOLN? KEZIAH?"

"Kiara!" Sian screamed.

The Love Destroyer had pulled her head out of the bell jar. Her appearance was utterly bizarre, her tiny baby's head bawling lously while her thick arms flailed dangerously in all directions, and I ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding her arms. I raised my wand but to my amazement Sian seized my arm.

"You can't hurt a baby!"

There was no time to argue the point; I heard more footsteps growing loudly from the Hall of Prophecy and I knew, too late, that I ought not to have shouted and given away our position.

"Come on!" I said, and leaving the ugly baby-headed Love Destroyer staggering behind us we took off for the door that stood open at the other end of the room, leading back into the black hallway.

We had run halfway towards it when I saw through the open door two more Love Destroyers running across the black room towards us; veering left, I burst instead into a small, dark, cluttered office and slammed the door behind us.

 _"Collo - "_ began Sian, but before she could complete the spell the door had burst open and the two Love Destroyers had come hurtling inside.

With a cry of triumph, both yelled:

 _"IMPEDIMENTA!"_

Chris, Sian, Nikita and I were all knocked backwards off our feet; Nikita was thrown over the desk and disappeared from view; Sian smashed into a bookcase and was promptly deluged in a cascade of heavy books; the backs of mine and Chris' heads were slammed into the stone wall behind us; I didn't know about Chris, but tiny lights burst in front of my eyes and for a moment I was too dizzy to react.

"WE'VE GOT HER!" yelled the Love Destroyer nearest me. "IN AN OFFICE OFF - "

 _"Silencio!"_ cried Sian and the woman's voice was extinguished. She continued to mouth through the hole in her mask, but no sound came out. She was thrust aside by her fellow Love Destroyer.

 _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ I shouted, as the second Love Destroyer raised her wand. Her arms and legs snapped together and she fell forwards, face down on to the rug at my feet, stiff as a board and unable to move.

"Well done, Ki - "

But the Love Destroyer Sian had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with her wand; a streak of what looked like purple flame passed right across Sian's chest. She gave a tiny "Oh!" as though of surprise and crumpled on to the floor, where she lay motionless.

"SIAN!"

I stood there, shocked that someone had taken Sian down, as Chris fell to his knees beside her and Nikita crawled rapidly towards Sian from under the desk, her wand held up in front of her. The Love Destroyer kicked out hard at Nikita's head as she emerged - her foot broke Nikita's wand in two and connected with her face. Nikita gave a howl of pain and she recoiled, clutching her own mouth and nose. I twisted around, my own wand held high, and saw that the Love Destroyer had ripped off her own mask and was pointing her wand directly at me; I immediately recognised the long, pale, twisted face from the _Daily Squabbler_ : Antonia Dali, the witch who had murdered the Pratts.

Dali grinned. With her free hand, she pointed from the prophecy still clutched in my hand, to herself, then at Sian. Though she could no longer speak, her meaning could not have been clearer. Give me the prophecy, or you get the same as her ...

"Like you won't kill us anyway, the moment I hand it over!" I said.

A whine of panic inside my head was preventing me from thinking properly: I looked down at Sian, who was still unconscious, and I saw that Chris had a hand on her shoulder. _Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead ..._

"Whaddever you do, Kiara," said Nikita fiercely from under the desk, lowering her hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down her mouth and chin, "don'd gib it to her!"

"Kiara," said Chris quietly from beside Sian's body. I looked at him properly and saw that he was looking at me, fiercely determined. "Nikita's right, don't give in!"

Then there was a crash outside the door and Dali looked over her shoulder - the baby-headed Love Destroyer had appeared in the doorway, her head bawling, her great fists still flailing uncontrollably at everything around her. Before I had the chance to do anything, Chris yelled:

 _"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"_

The spell hit Dali before she could block it and she toppled forwards across her comrade, both of them rigid as board and unable to move an inch.

"Sian," I said at once, moving to kneel down next to her, shaking her as the baby-headed Love Destroyer blundered out of sight again. "Sian, wake up ..."

"Whaddid she do to her?" said Nikita, crawling out from under the desk to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from her rapidly swelling nose.

"I dunno ..."

Chris groped for Sian's wrist.

"I've found a pulse."

Such a powerful wave of relief swept through me that for a moment I felt light-headed.

"She's alive?"

Chris looked at me, smiling with relief. "Yeah, I'm sure of it."

There was a pause in which I listened hard for the sound of more footsteps, but all I heard were the whimpers and blunderings of the baby-headed Love Destroyer in the next room.

"Chris, Nikita, we're not far from the exit," I whispered, "we're right next to that circular room ... if we can just get you across it, Nikita, and find the right door before any Love Destroyers come ... Chris, I'll bet you can get Sian up the corridor into the lift ... then you two could find someone ... raise the alarm ..."

"And what are you going to do?" said Chris, frowning at me, as Nikita mopped her bleeding nose with her sleeve.

"I've got to find the others," I said.

Chris and Nikita looked at each other and smiled simultaneously. Then Nikita said firmly, "We're going do find dem wid you."

"But Sian - "

"We'll take her with us," said Chris. "I'll carry her, don't worry - "

Chris then lifted Sian's upper body with one arm, put his other arm under her legs and stood up carrying her.

"Wait," I said, snatching up Sian's wand from the floor and shoving it into Nikita's hand, "you'd better take this."

Nikita kicked aside the broken fragments of her own wand as she, Chris and I walked slowly towards the door.

"My granddad's going do kill be," said Nikita thickly, blood spattering from her nose as she spoke, "dat was my bub's old wand."

I struck my head out of the door and looked around cautiously. The baby-headed Love Destroyer screaming and banging into things, toppling grandfather clocks and overturning desks, bawling and confused while the glass-fronted cabinet that I now suspected had contained Time-Turners continued to fall, shatter and repair itself on the wall behind us.

"She's never going to notice us," I whispered. "C'mon ... keep close behind me ..."

We crept out of the office and back towards the door into the black hallway, which seemed to be completely deserted. We walked a few steps forwards, Chris keeping up easily, despite Sian's weight; the door of the Time Room swung shut behind us and the walls began to rotate once more. the recent blow on the back of my head seemed to have unsettled me; I narrowed my eyes, swaying slightly, until the walls stopped moving again. With a sinking heart, I saw that Sian's fiery crosses had faded from the doors.

"So which way d'you reck - ?"

But before we could make a decision as to which way to try, a door to our right sprang open and four people fell out of it.

"Chrissie!" I croaked, dashing towards them. "Kestrel - are you all - ?"

"Kiara," said Chrissie, giggling weakly, lurching forwards, seizing the front of my robes and gazing at me with unfocused eyes, "there you are ... ha ha ha ... you look funny, Kiara ... you're all messed up ..."

Chrissie's face was very white and something dark was trickling from the corner of her mouth. Next moment her knees had given way, but she still clutched the front of my robes, so that I was pulled into a kind of bow.

"Kestrel?" I said fearfully. "What happened?"

But Kestrel shook her head and slid down the wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispered Keziah, who had a cut just above her left eye and was stood next to Lincoln, who was bent over Kestrel and who alone seemed to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into a room full of planets; it was a very cold place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark - "

"Kiara, we saw Uranus up close!" said Chrissie, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Kiara? We saw Uranus - ha ha ha - "

A bubble of blood grew out the corner of Chrissie's mouth and burst.

" - anyway, one of them grabbed Kestrel's foot; I used the Reductor Curse and blew up Jupiter in her face, but ..."

Keziah gestured hopelessly at Kestrel, who was breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed.

"And what about Chrissie?" I said fearfully, as Chrissie continued to giggle, still hanging off the front of my robes.

"I don't know what they hit her with," said Lincoln sadly, "but she's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get her along at all."

"Kiara," said Chrissie, pulling my ear down to her mouth and still giggling weakly, "you know who that boy is, Kiara? He's Loony ... Loony Lovedream ... ha ha ha ..."

"We've got to get out of here," I said firmly. "Lincoln, can you help Kestrel?"

"Yes," said Lincoln, sticking his wand behind his ear for safekeeping, then putting an arm around Kestrel's wrist and pulling her up.

"It's only my ankle, Linc, I can do it myself!" said Kestrel impatiently, but next moment she had collapsed sideways and grabbed Lincoln for support. I pulled Chrissie's arm over my shoulder just as, so many months ago, I had pulled Carol's. I looked around: we had a one in twelve chance of getting the exit right first time -

I heaved Chrissie towards a door; we were within a few feet of it when another door across the hall burst open and three Love Destroyers sped in, led by Katalina Outsider.

 _"There they are!"_ she shrieked.

Stunning Spells shot across the room: I smashed my way through the door ahead, flung Chrissie unceremoniously from me and ducked back to help Lincoln with Kestrel: we were all over just in time to slam the door against Katalina.

 _"Colloportus!"_ I shouted, and I heard three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

"It doesn't matter!" said a man's voice. "There are other ways in - WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE IN HERE!"

I span around; we were back in the Brain Room and, sure enough, there were doors all around the walls. I could hear footsteps in the hall behind us as more Love Destroyers came running to join the first.

"Lincoln - Nikita - Keziah - Chris - help me!"

The five of us tore around the room, sealing the doors as we went; I crashed into a table and rolled over the top of it in my haste to reach the next door:

 _"Colloportus!"_

There were footsteps running along behind the doors; every now and then another heavy body would launch itself against one, so it creaked and shuddered; Lincoln, Nikita, Keziah and Chris were bewitching the doors along the opposite wall - then, as I reached the very top of the room, I heard Lincoln cry:

 _"Collo - aaaaaaaaargh ..."_

I turned to see him flying through the air; five Love Destroyer surged into the room through the door he had not reached in time; Lincoln hit a desk, slid over its surface and onto the floor on the other side where he lay sprawled, as still as Sian.

"Get Pride-Lander!" shrieked Katalina, and she ran at me; I dodged her and sprinted back up the room; I was safe as long as they might hit the prophecy -

"Hey!" said Chrissie, who had staggered to her feet and was tottering drunkenly towards me, giggling. "Hey, Kiara, there are _brains_ in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Kiara?"

"Chrissie, get out of the way, get down - "

But Chrissie had already pointed her wand at the tank.

"Honest, Kiara, they're brains - look - _Accio brain_!"

The scene seemed momentarily frozen. Chris, Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah, myself and each of the Love Destroyers turned in spite of ourselves to watch the top of the tank as a brain burst from the green liquid like a leaping fish: for a moment it seemed suspended in mid-air, then it soared towards Chrissie, spinning as it came, and what looked like ribbons of moving images flew from it, unravelling like rolls of film -

"Ha ha ha, Kiara, look at it - " said Chrissie, watching it dislodge its gaudy innards, "Kiara, come and touch it; bet it's weird - "

"CHRISSIE, NO!"

I did not know what would happen if Chrissie touched the tentacles of thought that were flying behind the brain, but I was sure that it would not be anything good. I darted forwards but Chrissie had already caught the brain in her outstretched hands.

The moment they made contact with her skin, the tentacles began wrapping themselves around Chrissie's arms like ropes.

"Kiara, look what's happen - No - no - I don't like it - no, stop - _stop_ \- "

But the thin ribbons were spinning around Chrissie's chest; she tugged and tore at them as the brain was pulled tight to her like an octopus' body.

 _"Diffindo!"_ I yelled, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Chrissie before my eyes, but they would not break. Chrissie fell over, still thrashing against her bonds.

"Kiara, it'll suffocate her!" screamed Kestrel, immobilised by her broken ankle on the floor - then a jet of red light flew from one of the Love Destroyer's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keeled over sideways and lay there unconscious.

 _"STUBEFY!"_ shouted Nikita, wheeling around and waving Sian's wand at the oncoming Love Destroyers. _"STUBEFY! STUBEFY!"_

But nothing happened.

One of the Love Destroyers shot their own Stunning Spell at Nikita, which missed her - but got Keziah instead, who was flung backwards and slumped to a heap on the floor. Chris, Nikita and I were now the only three left fighting the five Love Destroyers, two of whom sent streams of silver light like arrows which missed but left craters in the wall behind us. I ran for it as Katalina Outsider raced right at me; holding the prophecy high above my head, I sprinted back up the room; all I could think of doing at that moment was to draw the Love Destroyers away from the others.

It seemed to have worked; they streaked after me, knocking chairs and tables flying but not daring to bewitch me in case they hurt the prophecy, and I crashed through the only door still open, the one through which the Love Destroyers themselves had come; inwardly praying that Nikita and Chris would stay with Chrissie and would find some way of releasing her. I ran a few feet into the new room and felt the floor vanish -

I fell down steep stone step after steep stone step, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash that knocked all the breath out of my body, I landed flat on my back in the sunken pit where the stone archway stood on its dais. The whole room rang with the Love Destroyers' laughter: I looked up and saw the five who had been in the Brain Room descending towards me, while as many more emerged through other doorways and began leaping from bench to bench towards me. I got to my feet though my legs were trembling so badly they barely supported me: the prophecy was still miraculously unbroken in my left hand, with my wand clutched tightly in my right. I backed away, looking around, trying to keep all the Love Destroyers within my sight. The back of my legs hit something solid: I had reached the dais where the archway stood. I climbed backwards on to it.

The Love Destroyers all halted, gazing at me. Some were panting as hard as I was. One was bleeding badly; Dali, freed of the Body-Bind Curse, was leering, her wand pointed straight at my face.

"Pride-Lander, your race is run," drawled Narissa Malty, pulling off her mask, "now hand over the prophecy like a good girl."

"Let - let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" I said desperately.

A few of the Love Destroyers laughed.

"You are not in a position to bargain, Pride-Lander," said Narissa Malty, her pale face flushed with pleasure. "You see, there are ten of us and only one of you ... or hasn't Crighton ever taught you how to count?"

"She's not alone!" shouted a voice above us. "She's still got us!"

My heart rose and sank at the same time: Chris came tearing down the stone steps, his wand clutched firmly in his hand with Nikita right behind him, who was scrambling down the stone benches towards us, Sian's wand held fast in her trembling hand.

"Nikita - no - go back to Chrissie - "

 _"STUPEFY!"_ Chris yelled over me, pointing his wand at each Love Destroyer in turn. _"STUPEFY! STUPE - "_

Two of the Love Destroyers were thrown backwards t the force of Chris' spells, but before he could finish his third spell, he and Nikita were seized from behind by two of the largest Love Destroyers, pinioning their arms to their sides. They sneered and kicked; several of the Love Destroyers laughed.

"I do not know who you are, boy," Narissa Malty said to Chris, "but you ... are the Bore girl, aren't you?" she said sneeringly to Nikita. "Well, your grandfather is used to losing family members to our cause ... your death will not come as a great shock."

"Bore?" repeated Katalina, and a truly evil smile lit her gaunt face. "Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, girl."

"I DOE YOU HAB!" roared Nikita, and she fought so hard against her captor's encircling grip that the Love Destroyer shouted, "Somebody Stun her!"

"No, no, no," said Katalina. She looked transported, her face lit alive with excitement as she glanced at me, then back at Nikita. "No, let's see how long Bore lasts before she cracks like her parents ... unless Pride-Lander wants to give us the prophecy."

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" roared Nikita, who seemed beside herself, kicking and writhing as Katalina drew nearer to her and her captor, her wand raised. "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, KIARA!"

Katalina raised her wand. _"Crucio!"_

Nikita screamed, her legs drawn to her chest so that the Love Destroyer holding her was momentarily holding her off the ground. The Love Destroyer dropped her and she fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony.

"That was just a taster!" said Katalina, raising her wand so that Nikita's screams stopped and she lay sobbing at her feet. Katalina turned and gazed up at me. "Now, Pride-Lander, either give us the prophecy, or watch your friends die the hard way!"

"No, Kiara!" shouted Chris frantically. "Don't do it!"

"I'm sorry, Chris, I have no choice," I said hopelessly, and I spoke truthfully; between saving the prophecy and saving my friends, it was a no-brainer, really. The prophecy was hot with the heat of my clutching hand as I held it out. Malty jumped forwards to take it.

Then, high above us, two more doors burst open and thirteen people sprinted into the room: my parents, Grandmother Sarabi, Kopa, Pumbaa, Meers, Kara, Grumpy, Todd, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

Malty turned and raised her wand, but Todd had already sent a Stunning Spell right at her. I did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived off the dais out of the way. The Love Destroyers were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step towards the sunken floor. Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, I saw Chris, who had been dropped by his captor when they saw the Order, was helping Nikita, who was struggling to walk. I dodged another jet of red light and ran, bent-backed, straight to Nikita.

"Are you OK?" I yelled, as another spell soared inches over our heads.

"Yes," said Nikita, leaning on Chris, who looked pale but determined to fight.

"And Chrissie?"

"We think so," said Chris. "She was still fighting the brain when we left - "

The stone floor beneath us exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where Chris' foot had been only seconds before; the three of us scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized me around the neck and pulled me upright so that my toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in my ear, "give me the prophecy - "

The woman was pressing so tightly on my windpipe that I could not breathe. Through watering eyes I saw my parents duelling with a Love Destroyer some ten feet away; Kara and Grandmother Sarabi were fighting a Love Destroyer each; Todd, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Katalina with help from Kopa, Harry and Hermione; Katalina was dodging the spells just as easily as if they were tennis balls being shot out of a tennis ball machine that was turned up to the maximum limit - yet nobody seemed to realised I was dying. I turned my wand backwards towards the woman's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the woman's free hand was groping towards the hand in which I was grasping the prophecy -

"AARGH!"

Chris had come lunging out of nowhere; and though he could have uttered a spell, he decided to take the "hero route", and flung himself at the woman, knocking her to the ground. The woman relinquished her hold on me at once as Chris tackled her to the ground. I whirled around to face her, and as Chris got up I gasped:

 _"STUPEFY!"_

The Love Destroyer keeled over backwards and her mask slipped off: it was Magro, Noelani's would-be killer.

"Thanks!" I said gratefully to Chris, grasping his hand as he pulled me up, before we went to Nikita and pulled her aside as my parents and their Love Destroyer lurched passed, duelling so fiercely that their wands were blurs; then my feet made contact with something round and hard and I slipped. For a moment I thought I had dropped the prophecy, but then I saw one of Grumpy's magical eyes spinning away across the floor.

Its owner was lying on her side, bleeding from the head, and her attacker bore down upon Chris, Nikita and I: Dali, her long, pale face twisted with glee.

 _"Tarantallegra!"_ she shouted, her wand pointed at Nikita, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap-dance, unbalancing her and causing her to fall to the floor again. "Now, Pride-Lander - "

She made the same slashing movement with her wand that she had used on Sian just as I yelled, _"Protego!"_

I felt something streak across my face like a blunt knife; the force of it knocked me sideways and I fell over Nikita's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worse of the spell.

Dali raised her wand again, _"Accio proph - "_

"Don't you _dare_ hurt my daughter!" screamed my mother, who had appeared out of nowhere and flung a spell at Dali, who went flying backwards. The prophecy had flown to the tips of my fingers but I had managed to cling on to it. Dali wasn't down for long, though; she and my mother were duelling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand-tips -

Dali drew back her wand to make the same slashing movement she had used on myself and Sian. Springing up, I yelled, _"Petrificus Totalus!"_ Once again, Dali's arms and legs snapped together and she keeled over backwards, landing with a crash on her back.

"Nice one!" Mum shouted, as I felt a hand on the back of my head, forcing it down, as a pair of Stunning Spells flew towards us. Looking up, I saw it was the angry face of my father who had forced my head down, but his eyes softened as he looked at me.

"Daddy, I'm sorry - I - I didn't," I started, not knowing what to say to apologise for the danger I had put everyone in, but I was caught by surprise when my father held me to him; a few seconds later, I felt another pair of arms around me, softer and more feminine, and I knew that they were my mother's.

"It's all right, sweetheart," said my father, as he and my mother let go of me, but he still had his hands on my shoulders. "You're safe, and that's all that matters to us." He cupped my cheek as my mother smiled at me and nodded, brushing my hair back.

"Now, listen to me," my father said, his tone becoming as serious as his expression, "all your mother and I want you to do right now is to get out of - "

The three of us ducked; a jet of green light had narrowly missed my mother. Across the room I saw Todd fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat and Katalina, triumphant, running back towards the fray.

"Kiara, take the prophecy, grab Nikita and Chris and run!" my father yelled, he, my mother and Pumbaa all dashing to meet Katalina. I did not see what happened next: Kara swayed across my field of vision, battling with the pockmarked and no longer masked Roscoe; another jet of green light flew over my head as I launched myself towards Chris and Nikita -

"Can you stand?" I bellowed in Nikita's ear, as Nikita's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Put your arms around mine and Chris' necks - "

Nikita did so - Chris and I heaved - Nikita's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support her, and then, out of nowhere, a woman lunged at us: the three of us fell backwards, Nikita's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Chris was struggling to get up, and I had my left arm held up in the air, trying to save the small glass ball from being smashed.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Pride-Lander!" snarled Narissa Malty's voice in my ear, and I felt the top of Malty's wand pressing hard between my ribs.

"No - get - off - me ... Nikita - catch it!"

I flung the prophecy across the floor; Nikita span herself around on her back and scooped the ball to her chest. Malty pointed her wand instead to Nikita, but Chris pointed his own wand at her and yelled, _"Impedimenta!"_

Malty was blasted off her back. As I scrambled up again I looked around and saw Malty smash into the dais on which my parents, Pumbaa and Katalina were now duelling. Malty aimed her wand at Chris, Nikita and I again, but before she could draw breath to strike, Meers had jumped between us.

"Kiara, round up the others and GO!"

I seized Nikita by the shoulder of her robes and, once Chris had gotten up and had regained his bearings, he seized Nikita's other shoulder, and together we lifted her bodily on to the first tier of the stone steps; Nikita's legs twitched and jerked and would not support her weight; Chris and I heaved again with all the strength we possessed and we climbed another step -

A spell hit the stone bench at my heel; it crumbled away and I fell back to the stone step below. Chris and Nikita sank to the ground, her legs still jerking and thrashing, and she thrust the prophecy into her pocket.

"Come on!" I said desperately, hauling at Nikita's robes. "Just try and push with your legs - "

Just as Chris was reaching for my hand, I gave another stupendous heave and Nikita's robes tore all along the left seam - the small spin-glass ball dropped from her pocket and, before either one of us could catch it, one of Nikita's floundering feet kicked it: it flew some ten feet to our right and smashed on the step beneath us. As the three of us stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by anyone but us. I saw its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding us, I did not hear one word of the prophecy. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

"Kiara, I'b sorry!" cried Nikita, her face anguished as her legs continued to flounder. "I'b so sorry, Kiara, I didn'd bean do - "

"It doesn't matter!" I shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of - "

 _"Ma!"_ said Chris, his face shining with relief, staring over mine and Nikita's shoulders.

"What?"

"MA!"

Nikita and I turned at the same time to look where Chris was staring. Directly above us, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Susan Crighton, her wand aloft, her face white and furious. I remember feeling a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of my body - _we were saved_.

Crighton sped down the steps past Chris, Nikita and I, and after I saw Crighton, all thought of leaving left. Crighton was already at the foot of the steps when the Love Destroyers nearest realised she was there and yelled to the others. One of the Love Destroyers ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Crighton's spell pulled her back as easily and effortlessly as though she had hooked her with an invisible line -

Only one pair was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. I saw Pumbaa (who was duelling Katalina alone, seeing as my parents had been shocked by Crighton's arrival) duck Katalina's jet of red light: he was laughing at her.

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely in the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

I released Nikita, though I was unaware of doing so. I jumped down the stone steps again, pulling out my wand, as Crighton and my parents, too, turned towards the dais.

It seemed to take Pumbaa an age to fall: his body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backwards through the ragged veil hanging from the arch.

I saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on Pumbaa's large, double chinned face as he fell through the ancient archway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind, then fell back into place.

I heard Katalina Outsider's scream of triumph from a long way off, as though I were standing at the end of a very long tunnel, I was just so full of shock. Pumbaa _dead_? No ... it couldn't be ...

Then a piercing scream brought me back to the present.

"NO!" my mother screamed, running towards the dais, with tears streaming down her face. "NO! PUMBAA, NO!"

Before she reached the dais, my father had caught up with her and grabbed her from behind; my mother struggled and writhed frantically, trying to escape from his strong arms, but my father would not let go.

"There's nothing you can do, Nala - "

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

" - it's too late, Nala."

"We can still reach him - " my mother still struggled hard and viciously, and still my father would not let go of her ...

"There's nothing you can do, Nala ... nothing ... he's gone."

 **AN: So, who of you saw Pumbaa dying, eh? Yeah, I thought I would leave that as a bit of a surprise for you. You see, I originally thought that Nala was going to die, but I have to keep around because it's important to the story. Yes, I know that Pumbaa's death is an easy option, particularly as we haven't known him for very long, but I have to keep both Simba and Nala alive. You'll see the importance for this decision in future books.**


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

 **The Only One She Ever Feared**

 **KIARA**

"He hasn't gone!" Mum yelled.

I did not believe it. As Meers ran past me, I walked towards my struggling parents, dazed, and as I got nearer to the dais, I heard the whispering voices for the first time since I had entered the room. I thought that Pumbaa was simply hiding -

"PUMBAA!" Mum bellowed. "PUMBAA!"

"He can't come back, Nala," my father said, his voice breaking as he struggled to restrain my mother. "He can't come back, because he's d- "

"HE - IS - NOT - DEAD!" Mum screamed. "PUMBAA!"

There was movement going on around us, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To me it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past us did not matter, nothing mattered except that my father should stop pretending that Pumbaa - who was standing feet from us behind that old curtain - was not going to emerge at any moment, shaking back his dark hair and eager to re-enter the battle.

I then felt a pair of arms around me, dragging me away from the archway. I was too stunned to try and fight back, so I kept my eyes on my mother, who seemed to have stopped trying to escape from my father's arms ... because she realised, as I did, that Pumbaa had to be -

Crighton had most of the remaining Love Destroyers grouped in the middle of the room, seemingly immobilised by invisible ropes; Crazy-Head Grumpy had crawled across the room to where Todd lay, and was attempting to revive her; Grandmother Sarabi was healing Kopa, who was bleeding severely; behind the dais there were flashes of light, grunts and cries - Kara had run forwards to continue Pumbaa's duel with Katalina.

"Kiara?"

I looked around; whoever had hold of me had led me back to the stone steps where Chris and Nikita were. Chris had helped her struggle down the benches, seeing as her legs were dancing uncontrollably still, to where I stood. The person who had led me there had let go of me and sat next to Chris was not Meers, as I had assumed - but Harry Potter.

"Kiara ... I'b really sorry ..." said Nikita. "Was dad man a - a friend of yours?"

I nodded.

"Here," said Harry quietly, and pointing his wand at Nikita's legs her said, _"Finite."_ The spell was lifted: Nikita's legs fell back to the floor and remained still. Harry's face was pale and he wore a painful expression. "Let's - let's find the others. Where are they all, Nikita?"

Harry was determinedly not looking at the archway. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain.

As Nikita looked at Harry properly for the first time, she became starstruck; her eyes were wide and she couldn't speak, so Chris spoke for her.

"They're all back there," he said. "A brain attacked Chrissie but we think she's all right - and Sian's unconscious, but we could feel a pulse - "

There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. As I heard Kara hit the ground screaming in pain, I saw my parents on the floor, their arms around each other, my father stroking my mother's back in a comforting fashion, as my mother sobbed uncontrollably on to my father's shoulder; Meers stood beside them, his head bowed, his face crumpled with anguish. I then felt an undeniable surge of rage rush through me at what Katalina Outsider had done - who was turning tail and running as fast as she could as Crighton whipped around. She aimed a spell at her but she deflected it; she was halfway up the stairs now -

"Kiara - no!" cried Harry, but I had already ripped my arm from Harry's slackened grip.

"SHE KILLED PUMBAA!" I bellowed. "SHE KILLED HIM - I'LL KILL HER! PUMBAA'S DEATH WILL BE AVENGED FOR MY PARENTS!"

And I was off, scrambling up the stone benches; people were shouting behind me but I did not care. The hem of Katalina's robes whipped out of sight ahead and we were back in the room where the brains were swimming ...

She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. I was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within: the brains slipped and slid over me and began springing their long coloured tentacles, but I shouted, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ and they flew off me up into the air. Slipping and sliding, I ran on towards the door; I leapt over Lincoln and Keziah, who were both groaning on the floor, past Kestrel, who said, "Kiara - what - ?", past Chrissie, who giggled feebly, and Sian, who was still unconscious. I wrenched open the door into the circular black hall and saw Katalina disappearing through a door on the other side of the room; beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts.

I ran, but she had already slammed the door behind her and the walls were already rotating. Once more, I was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra.

"Where's the exit?" I shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to a halt again. "Where's the way out?"

The room seemed to have been waiting for me to ask. The door right behind me flew open and the corridor towards the lifts stretched ahead of me, torch-lit and empty. I ran ...

I heard a lift clattering ahead; I sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner and slammed my fist on to the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grilles slid open, I dashed inside and hammered the button marked "Atrium". The doors had shut and I was rising ...

I forced my way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Katalina was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as I sprinted towards her and she aimed another spell at me. I dodged behind the Fountain of the Golden Trio: the spell zoomed past me and hit the wrought-gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. I crouched behind the statues, listening.

 _"Come out, come out, little Kiara!"_ she called in her mock baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin for your foolish parents?"

"I am!" I shouted, and a score of ghostly Kiara's seemed to chorus _I am! I am! I am!_ all around the room.

"Aaaaaah ... did you _love_ him, little baby Pride-Lander?"

Hatred rose in me such as I had never known before; I flung myself out from behind the fountain and bellowed, _"Crucio!"_

Katalina screamed: the spell knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain as Nikita had - she was already back on her feet, breathless, no longer laughing. I dodged behind the golden fountain again. Her counter-spell hit Harry's head, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, girl?" she yelled. She had abandoned her baby voice now. "You need to _mean_ them, Pride-Lander! You need to really want to cause pain - to enjoy it - righteous anger won't hurt me for long - I'll show you how it's done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson - "

I was edging around the fountain on the other side when she screamed, _"Crucio!"_ and I was forced to duck down again as Hermione's arm, holding her book, span off and landed with a crash on the floor a short distance from Harry's golden head.

"Pride-Lander, you cannot win against me!" she cried.

I could hear her moving to the right, trying to get a clear shot of me. I backed around the statue away from her, crouching behind Ron's legs.

"I was and am the Scarlet Lady's most loyal servant. I learned the Dark Arts from her, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little girl, cannot hope to compete with - "

 _"Stupefy!"_ I yelled. I had edged right around to where I saw Ron's profile grinning at the now headless Harry and taken aim at her back as she peered around the fountain. She reacted so fast that I barely had time to duck.

 _"Protego!"_

The jet of red light, my own Stunning Spell, bounced back at me. I scrambled back behind the fountain and Ron's hand that held the Chocolate Frog went flying across the room.

"Pride-Lander, I'm going to give you one chance!" shouted Katalina. "Give me the prophecy - roll it out towards me now - and I may spare your life!"

"Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!" I roared and, as I shouted it, pain seared across my forehead; my scar was on fire again, and I felt a surge of fury that was quite unconnected with my own rage. "And she knows!" I said, with a mad laugh to match Katalina's own. "Your dear old mate Zira knows it's gone! She's not going to be happy with you, is she?"

"What? What do you mean?" she cried, and for the first time there was fear in her voice, which I took deep satisfaction in.

"The prophecy smashed when Chris and I were trying to get Nikita up the steps! What do you think Zira'll say about that, then?"

My scar seared and burned ... the pain of it made my eyes stream ...

"LIAR!" she shrieked, but I heard the terror behind the anger. "YOU'VE GOT IT, PRIDE-LANDER, AND YOU WILL GIVE IT TO ME! _Accio Prophecy! ACCIO PROPHECY!_ "

I laughed again because I knew it would incense her, the pain building in my head so badly that I thought my skull might burst. I waved my empty hand from behind Ron's one-handed statue and withdrew it quickly as Katalina sent another jet of green light flying at me.

"Nothing there!" I shouted. "Nothing to summon! It smashed and nobody heard what it said; tell your boss that!"

"No!" she screamed. "It isn't true, you're lying! MISTRESS, I TRIED, I TRIED - DO NOT PUNISH ME - "

"Don't waste your breath!" I yelled, my eyes screwed up against the pain in my scar, now more terrible than ever. "She can't hear you from here!"

"Can't I, Pride-Lander?" said a high, cold voice.

I opened my eyes.

Tall, thin and scarlet-hooded, her terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, her scarlet, slit-protruding eyes staring ... Lady Zira had appeared in the middle of the hall, her wand pointed right at me; I stood frozen, quite unable to move from shock and fear.

"So, you smashed my prophecy?" said Zira softly, staring at me with those pitiless red eyes. "No, Katie, she is not lying ... I see the truth lurking at me from within her worthless mind ... months of preparation, months of effort ... and my Love Destroyers have let Kiara Pride-Lander thwart me again ..."

"Mistress, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Warts!" sobbed Katalina, flinging herself down at Zira's feet as she paced slowly nearer. "Mistress, you should know - "

"Be quiet, Katie," said Zira dangerously. "I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your snivelling apologies?"

"But Mistress - she is here - she is below - "

Zira paid no attention.

"I have nothing more to say to you, Pride-Lander," she said quietly. "You have irked me too often, for too long. _AVADA KEDAVRA!_ "

I had not even opened my mouth to resist; my mind was blank, and my wand was pointing uselessly at the floor.

But the headless golden statue of Harry in the fountain had sprung alive, leaping from its plinth to land with a crash on the floor between myself and Zira. The spell merely glanced off its chest as the statue flung out its arms to protect me.

"What - ?" cried Zira, staring around. And then she breathed, _"Crighton!"_

I looked behind me, my heart pounding. Crighton was stood in front of the golden gates.

Zira raised her wand and another jet of green light streaked at Crighton, who turned and was gone in a whirling of her cloak. Next second, she had reappeared behind Zira and waved her wand towards the remnants of the fountain. The statue of Hermione ran at Katalina, who screamed and sent spells streaming uselessly off her chest, before she dived at her, pinning her, one-handed, to the floor. Meanwhile, the statue of Ron ran straight at Zira, who vanished and reappeared beside the pool, before he took over Hermione's job of keeping Katalina prisoner, as Hermione headed towards the fireplaces set along the wall. The headless statue of Harry thrust me backwards, away from the fight, as Crighton advanced on Zira.

"It was foolish to come here tonight, Dizra," said Crighton calmly. "The Aurors are on their way - "

"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Zira. She sent another Killing Curse at Crighton but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flame.

Crighton flicked her own wand: the force of the spell that emanated from it was such that, though I was shielded by my golden guard, I still felt my hair stand on end as it passed and this time Zira was forced to conjure a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage to the shield, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it - an oddly chilling sound.

"You do not seek to kill me, Crighton?" called Zira, her scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"

"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a woman, Dizra," Crighton said calmly, continuing to walk towards Zira as though she had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt her stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit - "

"There is nothing worse than death, Crighton!" snarled Zira.

"You are quite wrong," said Crighton, still closing in upon Zira and speaking as lightly as though they were discussing the matter over drinks. I felt scared to see her walking along, undefended, shieldless; I wanted to cry out a warning, but my headless guard kept shunting me backwards towards the wall, blocking my every attempt to get out from behind it. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death had always been your greatest weakness - "

Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. Crighton quickly moved out of the way, and the curse hit part of the stone wall behind her, which cracked as a dent was made, but before the spell had even hit the wall, Crighton was back opposite Zira, and she had drawn back her wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Zira, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed Crighton had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold on Zira at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Crighton.

Zira vanished; the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike -

There was a burst of flame in mid-air above Crighton just as Zira reappeared, standing on the plinth in the middle of the pool where so recently the three statues had stood.

 _"Look out!"_ I yelled.

But even as I shouted, another jet of green light flew at Crighton from Zira's wand and the snake struck -

Kenna swooped down in front of Crighton, opened her beak wide and swallowed the jet of green light whole: she burst into flame and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled and flightless. At the same moment, Crighton brandished her wand in one long, fluid movement - the snake, which had been an instant from sinking its fangs into her, flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; and the water in the pool rose up and covered Zira like a cocoon of molten glass.

For a few seconds Zira was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass -

Then she was gone and the water fell with a crash back into its pool, slopping wildly over the sides, drenching the polished floor.

"MISTRESS!" screamed Katalina.

Sure that it was over, sure that Zira had decided to flee, I made to run out from behind my statue guard, but Crighton bellowed: "Stay where you are, Kiara!"

For the first time, Crighton sounded frightened. I did not see why: the hall was quite empty but for ourselves, the sobbing Katalina still trapped under the statue of Ron, and the baby phoenix Kenna croaking feebly on the floor -

Then my scar burst open and I thought I had died: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance -

I was gone from the hall; I was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that I did not know where my body ended and the creature's began: we were fused together, bound by pain and there was no escape -

And when the creature spoke, it used my mouth, so that in agony I felt my jaw move ...

 _"Kill me now, Crighton ..."_

Blinded and dying, every part of me screaming for release, I felt the creature use me again ...

 _"If death is nothing, Crighton, kill the girl ..."_

Let the pain stop, I thought desperately ... let her kill us ... end it, Crighton ... death is nothing compared to this ...

And I'll see my grandfather and Pumbaa again ...

And as my heart filled with emotion, the creature's coils loosened, the pain was gone; I was lying face down on the floor, shivering as though I lay on ice, not wood ...

And there were voices echoing through the hall, more voices than there should have been ... I opened my eyes and saw the headless statue of Harry that had been guarding me now lay flat on its back, cracked and immobile. I raised my head a few inches to find Crighton's nose inches from my own.

"Are you all right, Kiara?"

"Yes," I said, shaking so violently that I could not hold my head up properly. "Yeah, I'm - where's Zira, where - who are all these - what's - "

The Atrium was full of people; the floor was reflecting the emerald green flames that had burst into life in all the fireplaces along one wall, and streams of witches and wizards were emerging from them. As Crighton pulled me back to my feet, I saw the statue of Hermione, leading a stunned-looking Cornelia Sweets forward.

"She was there!" shouted a scarlet-robes witch whose hair was in a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall, where Katalina had lain trapped only moments before. "I saw her, Mrs Sweets, I swear it was She-You-Know, she grabbed a woman and Disapparated!"

"I know, Williams, I know, I saw her too!" gibbered Sweets, who was wearing a nightgown under her pinstriped cloak and was gasping as though she had just run miles. "Merlin's beard - here - _here!_ \- in the Ministry of Magic! - great heavens above - it doesn't seem possible - my word - how can this be - ?"

"If you proceed downstairs into the Department of Mysteries, Cornelia," said Crighton - apparently satisfied that I was all right, and walking forwards so that the newcomers realised she was there for the first time (a few of them raised their wands; others simply looked amazed; the statue of Hermione jumped up and down on the spot in celebration and Sweets jumped so much that her slipper-clad feet left the floor) - "you will find several escaped Love Destroyers contained in the Death Chamber, bound by an Anti-Disapparition Jinx and awaiting your decision as to what to do with them."

"Crighton?" gasped Sweets, beside herself with amazement. "You - here - I - I - "

She looked wildly around at the Aurors she had brought with her and it could not have been clearer that she was in half a mind to cry, "Seize her!"

"Cornelia, I am ready to fight your men - and win, again!" said Crighton in a thunderous voice. "But a few minutes ago you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lady Zira has returned, you have been chasing the wrong people for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"

"I - don't - well - " blustered Sweets, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell her what to do. When nobody did, she said, "Very well - Dalca! Williams! Go down to the Department of Mysteries and see ... Crighton, you - you will need to tell me exactly - the Fountain of the Golden Trio - what happened?" she added in a kind of whimper, staring around at the floor, where the remains of Harry, Ron and Hermione now lay scattered (their statue parts, not the real people themselves).

"We can discuss that after I have sent Kiara back to Dragon Mort," said Crighton.

"Kiara - _Kiara Pride-Lander_?"

Sweets wheeled around and stared at me; I was still stood against the wall beside the fallen statue of Harry that had guarded me during Crighton and Zira's duel.

"Her - here?" said Sweets, goggling at me. "Why - what's all this about?"

"I shall explain everything," repeated Crighton, "when Kiara is back at school."

She walked away from the pool to the place where Harry's golden head lay on the floor. She pointed her wand at it and muttered, _"Portus."_ The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.

"Now see here, Crighton!" said Sweets, as Crighton picked up the head and walked back to me carrying it. "You haven't got authorisation for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister for Magic, you - you - "

Her voice faltered as Crighton surveyed her magisterially with those piercing green eyes of hers.

"You will give the order to remove Democritus Umber from Dragon Mort,," said Crighton. "You will tell your Aurors to stop searching for my Care of Magical Creatures teacher so that she can return to work, and you will listen to what Simba and Nala Pride-Lander - who, yes, are indeed here - have to tell you; I am certain that they will not object to you giving them Veritaserum. I will give you ..." Crighton pulled a watch with twelve hands from her pocket and surveyed it " ... half an hour of my time tonight, in which I think we shall be more than able to cover the important points of what has happened here. After that, I shall need to return to my school. If you need more help from me you are, of course, more than welcome to contact me at Dragon Mort. Letters addressed to the Headmistress will find me."

Sweets goggled worse than ever; her mouth was open and her round face grew pinker under her rumpled grey hair.

"I - you - "

Crighton turned her back on her.

"Take this Portkey, Kiara."

She held out Harry's golden head of his statue and I placed my hand on it, past caring what I did next or where I went.

"I shall see you in half an hour," said Crighton quietly. "One ... two ... three ..."

I felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind my navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath my feet; the Atrium, Sweets and Crighton had all disappeared and I was flying forwards in a whirlwind of colour and sound ...


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

 **The Lost Prophecy**

 **KIARA**

My feet hit solid ground; my knees buckled a little and Harry's golden head fell with a resounding _clunk_ to the floor. I looked around and saw that I had arrived in Crighton's office. Everything seemed to have repaired itself during the Headmistress' absence. The delicate silver instruments stood once more on the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. The portraits of the headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs against the edge of the picture. I looked through the window. There was a cool line of pale green along the horizon: dawn was approaching.

The silence and the stillness, broken only by the occasional grunt or snuffle of a sleeping portrait, was unbearable to me. If the surrounding could have reflected the feelings that were inside of me at that moment, the pictures would have been screaming in anger and frustration. I walked around the quiet, beautiful office, breathing quickly, trying not to think. But I had to think ... there was no escape ...

It was my fault Pumbaa had died; it was all my fault. If I had not been stupid enough to fall for Zira's trick (and remembered the advice Harry had given me the day of my hearing in the Ministry), if I had not been so convinced that what I had seen in my dream was real, if I had only opened my mind to the possibility that Zira was, as Sian had said, banking on my _love of playing the hero_ ...

It was unbearable, I would not think about it, I could not stand it ... there was a great feeling of guilt surging inside me, writhing and squirming within me like thousands of wriggling worms ... and along with the guilt came a surging tide of worry - worry that my parents would blame me for being responsible for Pumbaa's death, and would hate me for it for ever. Of course, I would understand if they did, but that did not mean that I wouldn't be happy about it. I wished that I didn't have to deal with these feelings, I couldn't stand them -

A picture behind me gave a particularly loud grunting snore, and a cool voice said, "Ah ... Kiara Pride-Lander ..."

Philomena Naenia gave a long yawn, stretching her arms as she surveyed me out of shrewd, narrow eyes.

"And what brings you here in the early hours of the morning?" said Philomena eventually. "This office is supposed to be barred to all but the rightful Headmistress. Or has Crighton sent you here? Oh, don't tell me ..." She gave another shuddering yawn. "Another message for my worthless great-great-grandson?"

I could not speak. Philomena Naenia did not know that Pumbaa was dead, but I could not tell her. To say it aloud would make it final, absolute, irretrievable.

A few more of the portraits had stirred now. Terror of being interrogated made me stride across the room and seize the doorknob.

It would not turn. I was shut in.

"I hope this means," said the corpulent, red-nosed witch who hung on the wall behind the Headmistress' desk, "that Crighton will soon be back among us?"

I turned. The witch was surveying me with great interest. I nodded. I tugged again on the doorknob behind my back, but it remained immovable.

"Oh good," said the witch. "It has been very dull without her. Very dull indeed."

She settled herself on the throne-like chair on which she had been painted and smiled benignly upon me.

"Crighton thinks very highly of you, as I am sure you know," she said comfortably. "Oh yes. Holds you in great esteem."

The guilt filling the whole of my chest like some monstrous, weighty parasite, writhed and squirmed again. I could not stand it, I could not stand being there any more ... I had never felt so trapped inside my own head and body before that point, never wished so intensely that I could be somebody, anybody else ...

The empty fireplace burst into emerald green flame, making me leap away from the door, staring at the woman spinning inside the grate. As Crighton's tall form unfolded itself from the fire, the wizards and witches on the surrounding walls jerked awake, many of them giving cries of welcome.

"Thank you," said Crighton softly.

She did not look at me at first, but walked over to the perch beside the door and withdrew, from an inside pocket of her robes, the tiny, ugly, featherless Kenna, whom she placed gently on the tray of soft ashes beneath the golden post where the full-grown Kenna usually stood.

"Well, Kiara," said Crighton, finally turning away from the baby bird, "you will be pleased to hear that none of your fellow students are going to suffer lasting damage from last night's events. I have managed to speak to your parents, who have asked me to tell you that they are not too happy with you for what happened to Pumbaa - your mother especially - but they wanted me to tell you that they do not blame you for Pumbaa's death."

I tried to say, "Good," but no sound came out. It seemed to me that Crighton was reminding me of the amount of damage I had caused, and although Crighton was for once looking at me directly, and although her expression was kindly other than accusatory, I could not bear to meet her eyes.

"Matron is patching everybody up," said Crighton. "Nana Todd may need to spend a little time in St Mungo's, but it seems she will make a full recovery."

I contented myself with nodding at the carpet, which was growing lighter as the sky outside grew paler. I was sure all the portraits around the room were listening closely to every word Crighton spoke, wondering where Crighton and I had been, and why there had been injuries.

"I know how you're feeling, Kiara," said Crighton very quietly.

"No, you don't," I said, and my voice was suddenly loud and strong; white-hot anger leapt inside me; Crighton knew _nothing_ about my feelings.

"You see, Crighton?" said Philomena Naenia slyly. "Never try to understand the students. They hate it. They would much rather be tragically misunderstood, wallow in self-pity, stew in their own - "

"Thank you, Philomena," said Crighton.

I turned my back on Crighton and stared determinedly out of the window. I remember seeing the Quidditch stadium in the distance. I remembered how my parents had appeared there once, disguised as shaggy black dogs, so they could watch me play ... I never asked them if they were as good as me ... now that they were going to be free, I would be able to ask them this and so many more questions ... but then Pumbaa's death came back to me, and I couldn't help but wonder if my mother would want to be in the same room as me after what I had done, or whether she would be able to look at me the same way again - or look me in the eye, for that matter ... as much as I tried to stray from that way of thinking, I couldn't stop myself ...

"There is no shame in what you are feeling, Kiara," said Crighton's voice. "On the contrary ... the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength."

I felt the white-hot anger lick my insides, filling me with the desire to hurt Crighton for her calmness and her empty words.

"My greatest strength, is it?" I said, my voice shaking as I stared out at the Quidditch stadium, no longer seeing it. "You haven't a clue ... you don't know ..."

"What don't I know?" asked Crighton calmly.

It was too much. I turned around, shaking with rage.

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?"

"Kiara, suffering like this proves you are still a woman! This pain is part of being human - "

"THEN - I - DON'T - WANT - TO - BE - HUMAN!" I roared, and I seized the delicate silver instrument from the spindle-legged table beside me and flung it across the room; it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Amanda Dipper said, _"Really!"_

"I DON'T CARE!" I yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE - "

I seized the table on which the silver instrument had stood and threw that, too. It broke apart on the floor and the legs rolled in different directions.

"You do care," said Crighton. She had not flinched or made a single move to stop me demolishing her office. Her expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much that you feel as though the guilt will swallow you whole at any moment."

"I - DON'T!" I screamed, so loudly that I felt my throat might tear, and for a second I wanted to rush at Crighton and break her, too; shatter that calm old face, shake her, hurt her, make her feel some tiny part of the horror inside myself.

"Oh, yes, you do," said Crighton, still more calmly. "You feel guilty for Pumbaa's death, and you feel even more guilty for causing your mother pain for losing one of her best friends. Of course you care."

"YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL!" I roared. "YOU - STANDING THERE - YOU - "

But words were no longer enough, smashing things was no more help; I wanted to run, I wanted to keep running and never look back, I wanted to be somewhere I could not see the clear green eyes staring at me, that hatefully calm old face. I turned on my heel and ran to the door, seized the doorknob again and wrenched at it.

But the door would not open.

I turned back to Crighton.

"Let me out," I said. I was shaking from head to foot.

"No," said Crighton simply.

For a few seconds we stared at each other.

"Let me out," I said again.

"No," Crighton repeated.

"If you don't - if you keep me in here - if you don't let me - "

"By all means, continue destroying my possessions," said Crighton serenely. "I daresay I have too many."

She walked around her desk and sat down behind it, watching me.

"Let me out," I said yet again, in a voice that was cold and almost as calm as Crighton's.

"Not until I have had my say," said Crighton.

"Do you - do you think I want to - do you think I give a - I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!" I roared. "I don't want to hear _anything_ you've got to say!"

"You will," said Crighton steadily. "Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it."

"What are you talking - ?"

"It is _my_ fault Pumbaa died," said Crighton clearly. "Or should I say, almost entirely my fault - I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Not exactly a brave or energetic man, Pumbaa was quite clever, and therefore was the perfect choice for me to keep watch over your parents - your mother in particular - but that does not mean to say that he would not sit back and let others defend his friends if they were in danger, as you yourself saw. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that Simba and Nala would have left the sanctuary of Pumbaa's house, for he would have stopped them; also, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Kiara, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Zira might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And your parents, along with Pumbaa, would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone."

I was still standing with my hand on the doorknob, but I was totally unaware of it. I gazed at Crighton, hardly breathing, listening yet barely understanding what I was hearing.

"Please sit down," said Crighton; it was not an order, it was a request.

I hesitated, then walked slowly across the room that was littered with silver cogs and fragments of wood, and took the seat facing Crighton's desk.

"Am I to understand," said Philomena Naenia slowly from my left, "that my great-great-grandson - the last of the Warts - is dead?"

"Yes, Philomena," said Crighton.

"I don't believe it," said Philomena brusquely.

I turned my head in time to see Philomena marching out of her portrait, and I knew that she had gone to visit her other painting in Pumbaa's House. She would walk, perhaps, from portrait to portrait, calling for Pumbaa through the house.

"Kiara, I owe you an explanation," said Crighton. "An explanation of an old woman's mistakes. For I see now what I have done, and not done, with regard to you, bears all the hallmarks and failures of age. Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But those of us who are old are guilty if they forget what it was to be young, even if they are surrounded by their children ... and I seem to have forgotten, lately ..."

The sun was rising properly now; there was a rim of dazzling orange visible over the mountains and the sky above it was colourless and bright. The light fell upon Crighton, upon the silver that shone like light on chocolate, upon the lines gouged deeply into her face.

"I guessed, fifteen years ago," said Crighton, "when I saw the scar on your forehead, what it might mean. I guessed that it might be the sign of a connection forged between you and Zira.

"You've told me this before, Professor," I said bluntly. I did not care about being rude. I did not care about pretty much anything at that moment.

"Yes," said Crighton apologetically. "Yes, but you see - it is necessary to start with your scar. For it became apparent, shortly after you properly rejoined the wizarding world, that I was correct, and that you scar was giving you warnings when Zira was close to you, or else feeling powerful emotion."

"I know," I said wearily.

"And this ability of yours - to detect Zira's presence, even when she is disguised, and to know what she is feeling when her emotions are roused - has become more and more pronounced since Zira returned to her own body and her full powers."

I did not bother to nod. I knew all of this already.

"More recently," said Crighton, "I became concerned that Zira might realise that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into her mind and thoughts that she sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night you witnessed the attack on my husband."

"Yeah, Triphorm told me," I muttered.

" _Professor_ Triphorm, Kiara," Crighton corrected me quietly. "But did you wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?"

I looked up. I saw that Crighton looked sad and tired.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Yeah, I wondered."

"You see," Crighton continued, "I believed it could not be long before Zira attempted to force her way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give her more incentives to do so. I was sure that if she realised that our relationship was - or had ever been - closer than that of headmistress and pupil, she would seize her chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which she would put you, the possibility that she might try and possess you. Kiara, I believe I was right to think that Zira would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close eye contact, I thought I saw a shadow of her stir behind your eyes ..."

I remembered the feeling that a dormant snake had risen inside me, ready to strike, in those moments when Crighton and I had made eye-contact.

"Zira's aim in possessing you, as she demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. She hoped, when she possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing her. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Kiara. An old woman's mistake ..."

She sighed deeply. I let the words wash over me. I would have been so interested to know all this a few months ago, but now it was meaningless compared to the guilt that was weighing me down over Pumbaa's death; none of it mattered to me in those moments ...

"Your father told me you felt Zira awake inside you the very night that you had the vision of my husband's attack. I knew at once that my worst fears were correct: Zira had realised she could use you. In an attempt to arm you against Zira's assaults on your mind, I arranged Occlumency lessons with Professor Triphorm."

She paused. I watched the sunlight, which slid slowly across the polished surface of Crighton's desk, illuminate a silver ink pot and a handsome scarlet quill. I could tell that the portraits all around us were awake and listening rapidly to Crighton's explanation; I heard the occasional rustle of robes, the slight clearing of a throat. Philomena Naenia had still not returned ...

"Professor Triphorm discovered," Crighton resumed, "that you had been dreaming about the door to the Department of Mysteries for months. Zira, of course, had been obsessed with the possibility of hearing the prophecy ever since she regained her body; and as she dwelled on the door, so did you, though you did not know what it meant.

"And then you saw Roscoe, who worked in the Department of Mysteries before her arrest, telling Zira what we had known all along - that the prophecies held in the Ministry of Magic are heavily protected. Only the people to whom they refer can lift them from the shelves without suffering madness: in this case, either Zira herself would have to enter the Ministry of Magic, and risk revealing herself at last - or else you would have to take it for her. It became a matter of greater urgency that you should master Occlumency."

"But I didn't," I muttered. I said it aloud to try and ease some of the dead weight of guilt inside me: (I foolishly thought) confession must surely relieve some of the terrible pressure that was squeezing my heart. "I didn't practice, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams, Sian kept telling me to do it, if I had she'd never have been able to show me where to go, and - Pumbaa wouldn't - Pumbaa wouldn't - "

Something was erupting inside my head: a need to justify myself to explain -

"I tried to check she'd really taken my parents, I went to Umber's office, I spoke to Kleaner in the fire and she said my parents and Pumbaa weren't there, she said they'd gone!"

"Kleaner lied," said Crighton calmly. "You are not her mistress; she could lie to you without even needing to punish herself. Kleaner intended for you to go to the Ministry of Magic."

"She - she sent me on purpose?"

"Oh yes. Kleaner, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months."

"How?" I said blankly. "She hasn't been outside Pumbaa's House for years."

"Kleaner seized her opportunity shortly before Christmas," said Crighton, "when Pumbaa, apparently shouted at her to "get out". She took Pumbaa at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. She went to the only Wart family member for whom she had any respect left ... Warts' cousin through marriage Latchna, brother of Katalina and husband of Narissa Malty."

"How do you know all this?" I said. My heart was beating very fast. I remembered worrying about Kleaner's odd absence over Christmas, remembering her turning up again in the attic ...

"Kleaner told me last night," said Crighton. "You see, when you gave Professor Triphorm that cryptic warning, she realised that you had had a vision of your parents trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. She, like you, attempted to contact, Simba, Nala and Pumbaa at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Centaur have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Democritus Umber's office. Professor Triphorm found that your parents were alive and safe, with Pumbaa, in his home.

"When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Democritus Umber, Professor Triphorm grew worried that you still believed Simba and Nala to be captives of Lady Zira's. She alerted certain members of the Order at once."

Crighton heaved a great sigh and continued. "Aoife Grumpy, Nana Todd, Kara Shackles, Timon Meers, Kopa Outsider, Sarabi Pride-Lander, Harry Potter, Ginny Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Weasley were at Headquarters when she made contact. All agreed to go to your aid at once. Professor Triphorm requested that your parents remain behind, as she needed somebody to remain at Headquarters to tell me what had happened, for I was due there at any moment. In the meantime she, Professor Triphorm, intended to search the Forest for you.

"But your parents did not wish to remain behind while the others went to search for you; indeed, they both firmly stated that they would do anything for their daughter, even risking making themselves seen by the Ministry, and giving their lives in order to save you, that's how much you mean to them, Kiara. So Pumbaa delegated to Kleaner the task of telling me what had happened. And so it was that when I arrived at Pumbaa's House shortly after they had all left for the Ministry, it was the elf who told me - laughing fit to burst - where your parents and Pumbaa had gone."

"She was laughing?" I said in a hollow voice.

"Oh yes," said Crighton. "You see, Kleaner was not able to betray us totally. She is not Secret Keeper for the Order, she could not give the Maltys our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that she had been forbidden to reveal. She was bound by the enchantments of her kind, which is to say that she could not disobey a direct order from her master, Pumbaa. But she gave Latchna information of the sort that is very valuable to Zira, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Pumbaa to think of banning her from repeating it."

"Like what?" I said.

"Like the fact that the person Simba and Nala care about most in the world is you," said Crighton quietly. "Like the fact that you are obviously so happy with your parents and love them very much. Zira knew already, of course, that your parents are in the Order, and that you knew where they were - but Kleaner's information made her realise that the only people for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue are your parents."

My lips were cold and numb.

"So ... when I asked Kleaner if my parents and Pumbaa were there last night ..."

"The Maltys - undoubtedly under Zira's instructions - had told her she must find a way of keeping your parents and Pumbaa out of the way once you had seen the vision of Simba and Nala being tortured. Then, if you decided to check whether your parents and Pumbaa were at home or not, Kleaner would be able to pretend they were not. Kleaner injured Noelani the Hippogriff yesterday, and, at the moment when you made your appearance in the fire, Simba, Nala and Pumbaa were all upstairs tending to her."

There seemed to be very little air in my lungs; my breathing was quick and shallow.

"And Kleaner told you all this ... and laughed?" I croaked.

"She did not wish to tell me," said Crighton. "But I am a sufficiently accomplished Legilimens to know when I am being lied to and I - persuaded her - to tell me the full story, before I left for the Department of Mysteries."

"And," I whispered, my hands curled in cold fists on my knees, "and Sian kept telling us to be nice to her - "

"She was quite right, Kiara," said Crighton. "I warned Pumbaa when we adopted his house as our Headquarters that Kleaner must be treated with kindness and respect. I also told him that Kleaner could be dangerous to us. I do not think Pumbaa took me very seriously, or that he ever saw Kleaner as a being with feelings as acute as a human's - "

"Don't you blame - don't you - talk - about Pumbaa like - " my breath was constricted, I could not get the words out properly; but the rage that had subsided briefly flared inside me once again: I would not let Crighton criticise Pumbaa. "Kleaner's a lying - foul - she deserved - "

"Kleaner is what she has been made by wizards, Kiara," said Crighton. "Yes, she is to be pitied. Her existence has been as miserable as your friend Dokey's. She was forced to do Pumbaa's bidding, because Pumbaa was the last of the family to which she was enslaved, but she felt no true loyalty to him. And whatever Kleaner's faults, it must be admitted that Pumbaa did nothing to make Kleaner's lot easier - "

"DON'T TALK ABOUT PUMBAA LIKE THAT!" I yelled.

I was on my feet again, furious, ready to fly at Crighton, who had plainly not understood Pumbaa at all (which I know now sounds ridiculous, seeing as I only knew him for a few months and Crighton knew him much longer than that, but try and see where I'm coming from here), how broke he was, how much he had suffered ...

"What about Triphorm?" I spat. "You're not talking about her, are you? When I told her Zira had my mum and dad she just sneered at me as usual - "

"Kiara, you know Professor Triphorm had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Democritus Umber," said Crighton steadily, "but as I have explained, she informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was she who had deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was she, too, who gave Professor Umber fake Veritaserum when he was attempting you to force you to tell him Simba and Nala's whereabouts."

I disregarded this; I felt a savage pleasure in blaming Triphorm, it seemed to be easing my own sense of dreadful guilt, and I wanted to hear Crighton agree with me.

"I know that this - this is about Pumbaa, but Triphorm - Triphorm g-goaded my mother about staying at Pumbaa's - she made out my mother was a coward - "

"Your mother is much too old and clever to have allowed such feeble taunts to hurt her," said Crighton.

"Triphorm stopped giving me Occlumency lessons!" I snarled. "She threw me out of her office!"

"I am aware of it," said Crighton heavily. "I have already said that it was a mistake for me not to teach you myself, though I was sure, at the time, that nothing could have been more dangerous than to open your mind even further to Zira while in my presence - "

"Triphorm made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with her - " I remembered Chrissie's thoughts on the subject and plunged on " - how do you know she wasn't trying to soften me up for Zira, make it easier for her to get inside my - "

"I trust Tiana Triphorm," said Crighton simply. "But I forgot - another old woman's mistake - that some wounds run too deeply for the healing. I thought Professor Triphorm could overcome her feelings about your mother - I was wrong."

"But that's OK, is it?" I yelled, ignoring the scandalised faces and disapproving mutterings of the portraits on the walls. "It's OK for Triphorm to hate my mum, but it's not OK for Pumbaa to hate Kleaner?"

"Pumbaa did not hate Kleaner," said Crighton. "He regarded her as a servant unworthy of much interest or notice. Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike ... we wizards have mistreated and abused our fellows for too long, and we are now reaping our reward."

"SO PUMBAA DESERVED WHAT HE GOT, DID HE?" I yelled.

"I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it," Crighton replied quietly. "Pumbaa was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kleaner, because Kleaner was a living reminder of the home Pumbaa hated."

"Yeah, he did hate it!" I said, my voice cracking, turning my back on Crighton and walking away. The sun was bright inside the room now and the eyes of all the portraits followed me as I walked, without realising what I was doing, without seeing the office at all. "You made him stay shut up in that house with my parents and they all hated it, that's why they wanted to get out last night - "

"I was keeping Simba and Nala alive - which I did a good job of, if I say so myself," said Crighton quietly.

"People don't like being locked up!" I said furiously, rounding on her. "You did it to me all last summer - "

Crighton closed her eyes and buried her face in her long-fingered hands. I watched her, but this uncharacteristic sign of exhaustion, or sadness, or whatever it was from Crighton, did not soften me. On the contrary, I felt even angrier that Crighton was showing signs of weakness. I had no business being weak when all I wanted to do was rage and storm at her.

Crighton lowered her hands and surveyed me with her piercing green eyes.

"It is time," she said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Kiara. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you."

I glared at her for a moment, then flung myself back into the chair opposite Crighton and waited.

Crighton stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at me and said, "Five years ago, you arrived at Dragon Mort, Kiara, safe and whole, as I had intended. Well - not quite whole. There were certainly many bright and happy times through your childhood, but there were also a few dark points which occurred at the hands of your aunt, uncle and cousin. But on the whole, you were quite happy and safe for the best part of ten years, which was what I had hoped for."

She paused. I said nothing.

"You might ask - no offence intended - why you had to live with your grandmothers in close proximity to where you aunt, uncle and cousin were. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a daughter - my own included.

"My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realised. Zira had been vanquished hours before, but her supporters - and many of them are almost as terrible as she - were still at large, angry, desperate and violent. And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Zira was gone for ever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before she returned, but I was sure she would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing her as I have done, that she would not rest until she killed you and your parents.

"I knew that Zira's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if she ever returned to full power.

"But I knew, too, where Zira was weak. And so I made my decision. I spoke with your parents in person and told them of what I had planned to do - which was to provide protection for you. Naturally, they were not happy with you being taken away from them, but what choice did they have?

"My first thought was your aunt Mavuto, but your mother quickly stamped down on that idea, for she knew what her sister was and how she would treat you. I admit that it wasn't my brightest idea, but it was only when your father asked if there was anyone else that I decided to put you in a place where you could be protected by an ancient magic of which Zira knows, of which she despises, and which she has always, therefore, underestimated - to her cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your father's love provided you with a great protection, due to what happened with your brother, Kopa. He gave you a lingering protection she never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your father's blood. I delivered you to his mother, his only remaining relative. Sarafina, your mother's mother, was living with Sarabi for some time in that cottage, and they both agreed, and were delighted, to take you in."

"They've been so good to me," I said gently, smiling slightly in spite of myself. "I'm glad things have turned out the way they have, for they could have chosen to reject me, to turn their backs on me - "

"But they didn't. They took you in," Crighton cut across me. "Sarabi and Sarafina could have turned their backs on you, but they acted as I expected them to act: like loving mothers, willing to do whatever it takes to look out for their children and grandchildren; and so they took you in, and in doing so, Sarabi sealed the charm I placed upon you. Your father's love that lives within you made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."

"I still don't - "

"While you can still call home the place your father's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Zira. Your father's blood lives in three people: your father himself, Sarabi and you. His blood became your refuge. You need return there only once a year, but as long as you can still call it home, whilst you are there Zira cannot hurt you. Your grandmothers both know this. I explained what I had done in the letter I left, with you, when I handed you over to them. They know that allowing you houseroom may well have kept you alive for the past fifteen years."

"Wait," I said. "Wait a moment."

I sat up straighter in my chair, staring at Crighton.

"You sent that Howler. You told Grandmother Sarafina to remember - it was your voice - "

"I thought," said Crighton, inclining her head slightly, "that she might need reminding of the pact she and Sarabi had sealed by taking you in, something she might have forgotten, and would therefore remind her of the dangers of having you in her home."

"It did," I said. "Well - my aunt more than her. She wanted to throw me out, but after the Howler came, Grandmother Sarafina said I would have to stay. I've never seen her act quite like that before, to be honest; it's always been Grandmother Sarabi who takes charge in that house."

I stared at the floor for a moment, then said, "But what's this got to do with my parents and - "

I could not say Pumbaa's name.

"Five years ago, then," continued Crighton, as though she had not paused in her story, "you arrived at Dragon Mort, fairly happy and well-nourished, as well as being alive and healthy. You were quite a pampered little princess, but still as normal, humble, gentle and sweet a girl as I could have hoped for under the circumstances. Thus far, my plan was working well.

"And then ... well, you will remember the events of your first year at Dragon Mort quite as clearly as I do. You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you and sooner - much sooner - than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Zira. You survived again. You did more. You delayed her return to full power and strength. You fought a woman's fight. I was ... prouder of you than I can say.

"Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine," said Crighton. "An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Zira."

"I don't understand what you're saying," I said.

"Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Zira had tried to kill you when you were a baby?"

I nodded.

"Ought I to have told you then?"

I stared into the green eyes and said nothing, but my heart was racing again.

"You do not see the flaw in my plan yet? No ... perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age.

"I should have recognised the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognised that I was too happy to think that I did not want to do it on that particular day ... you were too young, much too young.

"And so we entered your second year at Dragon Mort. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced; once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Zira had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes ... we came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything?

"Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told you the, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph ...

"Do you see, Kiara? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."

"I don't - "

"I cared about you too much," said Crighton simply. "I cared more for your happiness than knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if my plan failed - with the exception of my own family, of course. In other words, I acted exactly as Zira expects we fools who love to act.

"Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have - and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined - not to want to save you more pain than you have already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy (again, excluding my family)? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands.

"We entered your third year. I watched from afar as you struggled to repel Stingers, as you found your parents, learned their story and rescued them. Was I to tell you then, at the moment when you had triumphantly snatched your parents from the jaws of the Ministry? But now, at the age of thirteen, my excuses were running out. Young you might be, but you had proved you were exceptional. My conscience was uneasy, Kiara. I knew the time must come soon ...

"But you came out of the maze last year, having watched Georgia Diggs die, having escaped death so narrowly yourself ... and I did not tell you, though I knew, now Zira had returned, I must do it soo. And now, tonight, I know you have been long ready for the knowledge I have kept from you for so long, because you have proved that I should have placed the burden upon you before this. My only defence is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school and I could not bring myself to add another - the greatest one of all." (Of course, she didn't mention "apart from Sian," when she said that I had struggled with more burdens than any student who had ever entered that school, but I'm getting ahead of myself. This will become clear to you in my seventh book, so stay with me.)

I waited, but Crighton did not speak.

"I still don't understand."

"Zira tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly after your birth. She knew the prophecy had been made, though she did not know its full contents. She set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing she was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. She discovered, to her cost, that she was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since her return to her body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from her last year, she has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon she has been seeking so assiduously since her return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."

The sun had risen fully now: Crighton's office was bathed in it. The glass case in which the sword of Louisa Lion-Heart resided gleamed white and opaque, the fragments of the instruments I had thrown to the floor glistened like raindrops, and behind me, the baby Kenna made soft chirruping noises in her nest of ashes.

"The prophecy's smashed," I said blankly. "Chris and I were pulling Nikita up those benches in the - the room where the archway was, and I ripped her robes and it fell ..."

"The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly."

"Who heard it?" I asked, though I thought I knew the answer already.

"I did," said Crighton, confirming my suspicions. "On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Dragon's Eye inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-grandson of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet him. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that he had not a trace of the gift himself. I told him, courteously I hope, that I did not think he would be suitable for the past. I turned to leave."

Crighton got to her feet and walked past me to the black cabinet that stood behind Kenna's perch. She bent down, slid back a catch and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the edges, in which I had seen my mother tormenting Triphorm. Crighton walked back to the desk, placed the Pensieve upon it, and raised her wand to her own temple. From it, she withdrew silvery, gossamer-fine strands of thought clinging to the wand and deposited them in the basin. She sat back down behind her desk and watched her thoughts swirl and drift inside the Pensieve for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she raised her wand and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.

A figure rose out of it, draped in scarves, his eyes magnified to enormous size behind his glasses, and he revolved slowly, his feet in the basin. But when Cyril Crystals spoke, it was not in his usual ethereal, mystic voice, but in the harsh, hoarse tones I had heard him use once before:

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Scarlet Lady approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied her, born just before the seventh month dies ... and the Scarlet Lady will mark her as her equal, but she will have power the Scarlet Lady knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Scarlet Lady will be born just before the seventh month dies ..."_

The slowly revolving Professor Crystals sank back into the silver mass below and vanished.

The silence within the office was absolute. Neither Crighton nor I nor any of the portraits made a sound. Even Kenna had fallen silent.

"Professor Crighton?" I said very quietly, for Crighton, still staring at the Pensieve, seemed completely lost in thought. "It ... did that mean ... what did that mean?"

"It meant," said Crighton, "that the person who has the only chance of conquering Lady Zira for good was born a day before the thirty-first of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This girl would be born to parents who had already defied Zira three times."

I remember feeling as though something was closing in on me. My breathing seemed difficult again.

"I means - me?"

Crighton surveyed me for a moment with her bright green eyes.

"The odd thing, Kiara," she said softly, "is that it may not have meant you at all. Cyril's prophecy could have applied to two witch girls, both born just before the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Centaur, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Zira three times. One, of course, was you. The other was Nikita Bore."

"But then ... but then why was it my name on the prophecy and not Nikita's?"

"The official record was re-labelled after Zira's attack on you as a child," said Crighton. "It seemed plain to the keeper of the Hall of Prophecy that Zira could only have tried to kill you because she knew you to be the one to whom Cyril was referring."

"Then - it might not be me?" I said.

"I am afraid," said Crighton slowly, looking as though every word cost her a great effort, "that there is no doubt that it _is_ you."

"But you said - Nikita was born before the end of July, too - and her mum and dad - "

"You are forgetting the next part of the prophecy, the final identifying feature of the girl who could vanquish Zira ... Zira herself would _mark her as her equal_. And so she did, Kiara. She chose you, not Nikita. She gave you the scar that has proved both blessing and curse."

"But she might have chosen wrong!" I said. "She might have marked the wrong person!"

"She chose the girl she thought most likely to be a danger to her," said Crighton. "And notice this, Kiara: she chose, not the pure-blood (which, according to her creed, is the only kind of wizard worth being or knowing), but the half-blood, like herself. She saw herself in you before she had even seen you, and in marking you with that scar, she did not kill you, as she intended, but gave you powers, and a future, which have fitted you to escape her not once, but four times so far - something that neither your parents, nor Nikita's parents, ever achieved."

"Why did she do it, then?" I said, for I felt numb and cold. "Why did she try and kill me as a baby? She should have waited to see whether Nikita or I looked more dangerous when we were older and tried to kill whoever it was then - "

"That might, indeed, have been the more practical course," said Crighton, "except that Zira's information about the prophecy was incomplete. The Dragon's Eye inn, which Cyril chose for its cheapness, has long attracted, shall we say, a more interesting clientele than the Flying Owls. As you and your friends found out to your cost, and I to mine that night, it is a place where it is never safe to assume you are not being overheard. Of course, I had not dreamed, when I set out to meet Cyril Crystals, that I would hear anything worth overhearing. My - our - one stroke of good fortune was that the eavesdropper was detected only a short way into the prophecy and thrown from the building."

"So she only heard - ?"

"She only heard the beginning, the part foretelling the birth of a girl in July to parents who had thrice defied Zira. Consequently, she could not warn her mistress that to attack you would be to risk transferring power to you, and marking you as her equal. So Zira never knew that there might be danger in attacking you, that it might be wise to wait, to learn more. She did not know that you would have _power the Scarlet Lady knows not_ \- "

"But I don't!" I said, in a strangled voice. "I haven't any powers she hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way she did tonight, I can't possess people or - or kill them - "

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," interrupted Crighton, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the force of nature. It is also, perhaps, the most mysterious of the many subjects for study that reside there. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Zira has not at all. That power took you to save your parents tonight. That power also saved you from possession by Zira, because she could not bear to reside in a body so full of the force she detests. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you."

I closed my eyes. If I had not gone to save my parents, Pumbaa would not have died ... More to stave off the moment when I would have to think of Pumbaa again, I asked, without caring much about the answer, "The end of the prophecy ... it was something about ... _neither can live_ ... "

 _" ... while the other survives,"_ said Crighton.

"So," I said, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep wall of despair inside me, "so does that mean that ... that one of us has got to kill the other ... in the end?"

"Yes," said Crighton.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. Somewhere far beyond the office walls, I heard the sound of voices, students heading down for an early breakfast, perhaps. It seemed impossible to me back then that there could be people in the world who still desired food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that Pumbaa Warts was gone for ever. Pumbaa seemed a million miles away already; even now a part of me still believed that if my mother had only pulled back that veil, she would have found Pumbaa looking back at her, greeting her, perhaps, with his hoarse, grunting laugh ...

"I feel I owe you another explanation, Kiara," said Crighton hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as Prefect? I must confess ... that I rather thought ... you had enough responsibility to be going on with."

I looked up at her and saw a tear trickling down her cheek, sadness reflected in every line of her face.

 **AN: So, here is the penultimate chapter of the fifth book. I'll be finishing this next Thursday, and I'll also be telling you about my plans for the sixth book, too.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

 **The Third War Begins**

 **KIARA**

 _SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS_

 _"In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelia Sweets confirmed that She Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is once more active._

 _" "It is with great regret that I must confirm that the witch styling herself Lady - well, you know who I mean - is alive and among us again," said Sweets, looking tired and flustered as she addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the revolt of the Stingers of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the Stingers are currently taking direction from Lady - Thingy._

 _" "We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the current month."_

 _"The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that She-You-Know is operating amongst us once more"._

 _"Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that She Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Love Destroyers) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening._

 _"Susan Crighton, newly reinstated Headmistress of Dragon Mort Magical Academy and reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, has so far been unavailable for comment. She has insisted over the past year that She-You-Know is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Girl Who Lived" -_

"There you are, Kiara, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow," said Sian, looking over the top of her paper at me.

We were in the hospital wing. I was sitting on the end of Chrissie's bed and we were both listening to Sian read the front page of the _Sunday Squabbler_. Chris was sat on Sian's bed with Kestrel, whose ankle had been mended in a trice by Matron; Nikita, whose nose had likewise been returned to its normal size and shape, was in a chair between the two beds; Keziah was sat by Sian's bed, listening attentively to every word Sian spoke. She had come to visit with Lincoln, who was clutching the latest edition of _The Mystics_ , which he was reading upside-down and was apparently not taking in a word Sian was saying.

"She's the "girl who lived" again now, though, isn't she?" said Chrissie darkly. "Not such a deluded show-off any more, eh?"

She helped herself to a handful of Multi-Flavour Fruit-Frogs from the immense pile on her bedside cabinet, threw a few to Chris, Kestrel, Nikita, Keziah and I and ripped off the wrapper of her own with her teeth. There were still deep welts on her forearms where the brain's tentacles had wrapped around her. According to Matron, thoughts could leave deeper scarring than almost anything else, though since she had started applying copious amounts of Dr Ubbly's Oblivious Unction there seemed to have been some improvement.

"Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Kiara," said Sian, scanning down the article. " _"A lone voice of truth ... perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in her story ... forced to bear ridicule and slander ..."_ Hmm," she said, frowning, "I notice they didn't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering in the _Squabbler_ ..."

She winced slightly and put a hand to her ribs. The curse Dali had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had she been able to say the incantation aloud, had nevertheless caused, in Matron's words, "quite enough damage to be going on with". Sian was having to take ten different types of potion every day, was improving greatly, and was already bored with the hospital wing, though she was cheered up for an hour with a daily visit from her mother.

" _She-You-Know's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Susan Crighton, pages six to eight, Who Really Framed the Pride-Landers and Their Story, pages nine to eleven, Exclusive Interview With Kiara Pride-Lander, page twelve_ ... well," sad Sian, folding up the newspaper and throwing it aside, "it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Kiara isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in _The Mystics_ months ago ..."

"Mammy sold it to them," said Lincoln vaguely, turning a page of _The Mystics_. "She got a very good price for it, too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer to see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Sian seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, then said, "That sounds lovely."

Chris caught my eye and looked away quickly, grinning.

"So, anyway," said Sian, sitting up a little straighter and wincing again, "what's going on in school?"

"Well, Winds has got rid of Tanya and Geri's swamp," said Kestrel, "she did it in about three seconds. But she left a tiny patch under the window and roped it off - "

"Why?" said Sian, looking startled.

"Oh, she just says it was a really good bit of magic," said Chris, shrugging.

"I think she left it as a monument to Tanya and Geri," said Chrissie, through a mouthful of Frog. "They sent me all these, you know," she told me, pointing at the small mountain of frogs beside her. "Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?"

Sian looked rather disapproving and asked, "So has all the trouble stopped now that Ma's back?"

"Yes," said Nikita, "everything's settled right back to normal."

"I s'pose Match is happy, isn't he?" asked Chrissie, popping a Multi-Flavoured Fruit-Frog Card featuring her mother against her water jug.

"Not at all," said Keziah. "He's really, really miserable, actually ..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "He keeps saying Umber was the best thing that ever happened to Dragon Mort ..."

The eight of us looked around. Professor Umber was lying in a bed opposite us, gazing up at the ceiling. Crighton had strode alone into the Forest to rescue him from the centaurs; how she had done it - nobody knew, not even Sian, and Umber was certainly not telling. Since he had returned to the castle he had not, as far as any of us knew, uttered a single word. None of us really knew what was wrong with him, either. His usually neat mousy hair was very untidy and there were still bits of twigs and leaves in it, but otherwise he seemed to be quite unscathed.

"Matron says he's just in shock," whispered Sian.

"Sulking, more like," said Chris.

"Yeah, he shows signs of life if you do this," said Chrissie, and with her tongue she made soft clip-clopping noises. Umber sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Matron, poking her head around her office door.

"No ... no ..." said Umber, sinking back into his pillows. "No, I must have been dreaming ..."

Chris, Sian, Kestrel and Keziah muffled their laughter in the bedclothes.

"Speaking of centaurs," said Sian, when she had recovered a little, "who's Divination teacher now? Is Fauna staying?"

"She's got to," I said, "the other centaurs won't take her back, will they?"

"It looks like she and Crystals are both going to teach," said Chris.

"Bet Ma wishes she could've got rid of Crystals for good," said Chrissie, now munching on her fourteenth Frog. "Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me, Fauna isn't a lot better ..."

"How can you say that?" Sian demanded. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies?"

"Yeah, Chrissie, don't be so narrow-minded!" said Chris.

My heart began to race. I had not told Chris, Sian, Chrissie or anyone else what the prophecy had contained. Nikita had told them it had smashed while Chris and I were pulling her up the steps in the Death Room and I had not yet corrected this impression. I was not ready to see their expressions at that time when I told them that I must either be murderer or victim, there was no other way ...

"It is a pity it broke," said Sian quietly, shaking her head.

"Yeah, it is," said Chrissie. "Still, at least She-You-Know never found out what was in it either - where are you going?" she added, looking both surprised and disappointed as I stood up.

"Er - Mina's," I said. "You know she just got back and I promised I'd go down and see her and tell her how you two are."

"Oh, all right then," said Chrissie grumpily, looking out of the dormitory window at the patch of bright blue sky beyond. "Wish we could come."

"Well, I can come with you," said Chris eagerly, standing up. "That is ... if you want me to?" he added hesitantly, looking at me.

"No," I said quickly. Then I said more steadily, "I mean, no - er - that's all right. You can stay here and - and keep these guys company."

"Are you sure?" said Chris, trying to cover the disappointment in his eyes, which was not lost on everyone else: Sian, Chrissie and Kestrel looked at each other, smirking; Nikita and Keziah stared at him; and Lincoln's eyes appeared over the top of _The Mystics_. "I can keep you company - "

"Nah, I'll be all right," I said. "I'll be with Mina. You stay here."

"All right," said Chris, not looking at me, clearly disappointed as he slumped back down on Sian's bed.

"Say hello to Mina for us!" called Sian, as I proceeded down the ward. "And ask her what's happening about ... about her little friend!"

I gave a wave of my hand to show I had heard and understood as I left the dormitory.

The castle seemed very quiet even for a Sunday. Everybody was clearly out in the sunny grounds, enjoying the end of their exams and the prospect of a last few days of term unhampered by revision or homework. I walked slowly along the deserted corridor, peering out of windows as I went; I saw people messing around in the air over the Quidditch pitch and a couple of students swimming in the river, accompanied by the giant squid.

I was finding it hard to decide whether I wanted to be with people or not; whenever I was in company, I wanted to get away and whenever I was alone I wanted company. I thought I might go and visit Mina, though, as I had not talked to her properly since she'd returned ...

I had just descended the last marble step into the Entrance Hall when Malty, Crate and Gabber emerged from a door on the right that I knew led down to the Snake-Eyes common room. I stopped dead; so did Malty and the others. The only sounds were the shouts, laughter and splashes drifting into the Hall from the grounds through the open front doors.

Malty glanced around - I knew she was checking for the signs of teachers - then she looked back at me and said in a low voice, "You're dead, Pride-Lander."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Funny," I said, "you'd think I'd have stopped walking around ..."

Malty looked angrier than I had ever seen her; I remember feeling a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of her pale, pointed face that was contorted with rage.

"You're going to pay," said Malty, in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "I'm going to make you pay for what you've done to my mother ..."

"Well, I'm terrified now," I said sarcastically. "I s'pose Lady Zira's just a warm-up act compared to you three - what's the matter?" I added, for Malty, Crate and Gabber had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. "She's a mate of your mum, isn't she? Not scared of her, are you?"

"You think you're such a big girl, Pride-Lander," said Malty, advancing now, Crate and Gabber flanking her. "You wait. I'll have you. You can't land my mother in prison - "

"I thought I just had," I said.

"The Stingers have left Azkaban," said Malty quietly. "Mum and the others'll be out of there in no time ..."

"Yeah, I expect they will," I said. "Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now - "

Malty's hand flew towards her wand, but I was too quick for her; I had drawn my own wand before Malty's fingers had even entered the pocket of her robes.

"Pride-Lander!"

The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Triphorm had emerged from the staircase leading down to her office and at the sight of her I felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything I felt towards Malty ... whatever Crighton said, I would never forgive Triphorm ... never ...

"What are you doing, Pride-Lander?" said Triphorm, coldly as ever, as she strode over to the four of us.

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malty, ma'am," I said fiercely.

Triphorm stared at me.

"Put that wand away at once," she said curtly. "Ten points from Li- "

Triphorm looked towards the giant hour-glasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.

"Ah, I see there are no longer any points left in the Lion-Heart hour-glass to take away. In that case, Pride-Lander, we will simply have to - "

"Add some more?"

Professor Darbus had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle; she was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.

"Professor Darbus!" said Triphorm, striding forwards. "Out of St Mungo's, I see?"

"Yes, Professor Triphorm," said Professor Darbus, shrugging off her travelling cloak, "I'm quite as good as new. You two - Crate - Gabber - "

She beckoned them forwards imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.

"Here," said Professor Darbus, thrusting her carpetbag into Crate's chest and her cloak into Gabber's, "take these up to my office for me."

They turned and stumped away up the marble staircase.

"Right then," said Professor Darbus, looking up at the hour-glasses on the wall. "Well, I think Pride-Lander and her friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of She-You-Know! What say you, Professor Triphorm?"

"What?" snapped Triphorm, though I knew she had heard perfectly well. "Oh - well - I suppose ..."

"So that's fifty each for Pride-Lander, the three Dawsons, Rickers and Bore," said Professor Darbus, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Lion-Heart's hour-glass as she spoke. "Oh - and fifty for Mr Lovedream and Miss Rea-Bradley, I suppose," she added, and a number of emeralds and sapphires fell into the Snake-Eyes' and Raven-Wings' hour-glasses. "Now, you wanted to take ten from Miss Pride-Lander, I think, Professor Triphorm - so there we are ..."

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.

"Well, Pride-Lander, Malty, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this," Professor Darbus continued briskly.

I did not need telling twice; I thrust my wand back inside my robes and headed straight for the front doors without another glance at Triphorm and Malty.

The hot sun hit me with a blast as I walked across the lawns towards Mina's cabin. Students lying around on the grass sunbathing, talking, reading the _Sunday Squabbler_ and eating sweets, looked up at me as I passed; some called out to me, or else waved, clearly eager to show that they, like the _Squabbler_ , had decided I was something of a hero. I said nothing to any of them. I had no idea of how much they knew of what had happened three days ago, but I had so far avoided being questioned and I preferred to keep it that way.

I thought at first when I knocked on Mina's cabin door that she was out, but then Gnasher came charging around the corner and almost bowled me over with the enthusiasm of her welcome. Mina, it transpired, was picking runner beans in her back garden.

"All righ', Kiara!" she said, beaming, when I approached the fence. "Come in, come in, we'll have a cup o' dandelion juice ...

"How're things?" Mina asked me, as we settled down at her wooden table with a glass apiece of iced juice. "Yeh - er - feelin' all righ', are yeh?"

I knew from the look of concern on Mina's face that she was not referring to my physical well-being.

"I'm fine," I said quickly, because I could not bear to discuss the thing that I knew was on Mina's mind. "So, where've you been?"

"Bin hidin' out in the mountains," said Mina. "Up in a cave, like yeh paren's did when they were on the run. But I'm back now, and tha's what matters."

"You - you look better," I said, determined to keep the conversation moving away from Pumbaa.

"Wha'?" said Mina, raising a massive hand and feeling her face. "Oh - oh yeah. Well, Harlow's loads better behaved now, loads. Seemed right pleased ter see me when I got back, ter tell yeh the truth. She's a good girl, really ... I've bin thinkin' abou' tryin' ter find her gen'leman friend, actually ..."

I would normally have tried to persuade Mina out of this idea at once; the idea of a second giant taking up residence in the Forest, possibly even wilder and more brutal than Harlow, was positively alarming, but somehow I could not muster the energy necessary to argue the point. I was starting to wish I was alone again, and with the idea of hastening my departure I took several large gulps of dandelion juice, half-emptying my glass.

"Ev'ryone knows yeh've bin tellin' the truth now, Kiara," said Mina softly and unexpectedly. She was watching me closely. "Tha's gotta be better, hasn' it?"

I shrugged.

"Look ..." Mina leaned towards me across the table, "I knew Pumbaa longer 'n yeh did ... he died in battle, which wasn' the way he'd've wanted ter go - "

"He didn't want to go at all!" I said angrily.

Mina bowed her great smooth head.

"Nah, I don' reckon he did," she said quietly. "But still, Kiara ... he was never one ter sit aroun' at home an' let other people do the fightin'. He couldn've lived with himself if he hadn' gone ter help - "

I leapt up.

"I've got to go and visit Sian and Chrissie in the hospital wing," I said mechanically.

"Oh," said Mina, looking rather upset. "Oh ... all righ' then, Kiara ... take care o' yerself then, an' drop back in if yeh've got a mo ..."

"Yeah ... right ..."

I crossed to the door as fast as I could and pulled it open; I was out in the sunshine again before Mina had finished saying goodbye, and walking away across the lawn. Once again, people called out to me as I passed. I closed my eyes for a few moments, wishing they would all vanish, that I could open my eyes and find myself alone in the grounds ...

A few days ago, before my exams had finished and I had seen the vision Zira had planted in my mind, I would have given almost anything for the wizarding world to know I had been telling the truth, for them to believe that Zira was back, and to know that I was neither a liar nor mad. Now, however ...

I walked a short way around the river, sat down on its bank, sheltered from the gaze of passers-by behind a tangle of shrubs, and stared out over the gleaming water, thinking ...

Perhaps the reason I wanted to be alone was because I had felt isolated from everybody since my talk with Crighton. An invisible barrier separated me from the rest of the world. I was - I had always been - a marked woman. It was just that I had never really understood what that meant ...

And yet sitting there on the edge of the river, with the terrible weight of guilt dragging at me, with the worrying thought of how my mother was going to act when she saw me next, I could not muster any great sense of fear. It was sunny, and the grounds around me were full of laughing people, and even though I felt as distant from them as though I belonged in a different race, it was still very hard to believe as I sat there that my life must include, or end, in murder ...

I sat there for a long time, gazing out at the water, trying not to think about Pumbaa or my parents, or to remember that it was directly across from here, on the opposite bank, that my parents had once collapsed trying to fend off a hundred Stingers ...

The sun had set before I realised it was cold. I got up and returned to the castle, wiping my face on my sleeve as I went.

0000

 **SIAN**

It was three days before the end of term, and Sian and Chrissie had left the hospital wing, both completely cured. As Chrissie went back to the Lion-Heart common room, Sian was in the glass elevator, on her way to visit her mother, for this was the first time since her mother's return to the school that she had got to see her alone, and Sian was very much looking forward to it.

Sian's mind went back to when she woke up in the hospital wing late that Friday night, with no idea of how she got there, and the first thing her eyes landed on were the eyes of her mother, smiling sweetly and lovingly at her. At first she couldn't believe it, she thought she was dreaming; it was only when her mother said, "Hello, _magi_ ," that she knew her mother was really there. Sian smiled delightedly, and tried to sit up to try and hug her, but a sharp blast of pain hit her ribs as she did so, and her mother pushed her gently back on to her pillows, telling her to take it easy, for Sian was in quite a bad way and should be making no effort to make any sudden movements so soon, but that did not stop Crighton hugging her eldest child dearly, and Sian returned the favour with added vigour, which surprised Crighton a little, but she quickly got over it and stroked Sian's hair comfortingly.

They stayed like that for some time, neither wanting to let the other go quickly, but eventually they did. Sian then asked her mother what had happened, and Crighton first told Sian that Matron had told her that her condition could have been a lot worse, but she would have to stay in bed for a few days to get better which, naturally, Sian was not happy about. Crighton chuckled at her daughter's reaction, then proceeded to tell her what happened at the Ministry. Sian was sorry for Pumbaa's death, for he was always nice to her, was shocked by Kiara's recklessness and with Zira trying to possess her best friend, but was pleased to know that the Ministry was finally aware of the truth and that her mother was back.

It was not long after this that Sian began to grow tired. Crighton saw this and promised her daughter that as long as she was in the hospital wing, she would come and visit her for an hour - and her mother was as good as her word. But now that Sian was out, she decided to visit her mother before doing anything else.

She got out of the elevator, knocked on the office door and waited. She heard her mother's voice say, "Enter," and Sian went in, surprised at how well the office had tidied itself up, but was brought back to her mother's presence by the woman herself, saying, "Well, you got back on your feet pretty quickly."

Sian looked at her mother, grinning, and said, "And so did this place, by the looks of things."

Her mother laughed and Sian rushed towards her and her mother hugged her like she had wanted to do in the hospital wing, and her mother hugged her back just as tightly. Crighton kissed Sian on the forehead and both pulled back slightly, looking at each other warmly.

"Oh, it's so good to have you back, Ma," Sian said. "I've really missed you not being here."

"And I've missed you too, _magi_ ," said Crighton, "and I am glad to be back here. Tell me, how have things been in my absence?"

"Dull, boring and pretty awful if I'm honest, Ma," said Sian, her smile fading.

"Yes, I can tell from how many students and staff members alike have come up to me and said, "Welcome back"," said Crighton. She studied Sian's face and her eyes fell on the scars around Sian's neck that were caused by Umber, and a painful look crossed her face. Sian saw this and saw where her mother was looking and said, "Ma, don't look like that, please? It wasn't your fault, but I'm sorry that this happened. You see - "

"You do not need to explain yourself, my darling," Crighton interrupted. "The centaurs told me everything."

"They did?"

"Yes, they did. And even though it was probably the most foolish thing you have ever done - " Sian looked at her feet " - they are grateful for the service you provided them, though they were reluctant to admit it ... and I am proud of you, my darling."

"You are? But I almost got myself killed. Aren't you angry with me?"

"I was at first, Sian, but after listening to what the centaurs told me, I had no choice but to be proud. You stood up for what you believe in and you did the right thing, for if you thought you did the wrong thing, you would not be showing those scars on your neck, would you? No, if I am angry at anyone, I am angry at Umber."

Sian nodded her head. "I take it this means he will not be teaching here again next year, then?"

"No, he will not," said Crighton firmly. "Not only for what he did to you, but for many other things, too."

Sian nodded her head solemnly in understanding, then said, "So, Ma, you told Kiara about the prophecy, didn't you?" Sian had known of the prophecy for a few years from her mother, and had heard her mother's explanation of why she had not told Kiara, despite Sian's nagging to her mother to tell Kiara the truth. And now at last it seemed that Crighton's excuses had come to an end.

"Yes, I did," said Crighton sadly. "She had to know ... especially now that Zira's back in the open."

"Well, at least we can put this rather messed up year behind us 1," said Sian, trying to see a light.

"Indeed it is, my darling. But you do know that we cannot go on holiday this year, don't you?"

"Of course, Ma. Don't worry, I understand. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect our family."

"I know you will, my brave girl," said Crighton, smiling proudly at her daughter, and as they embraced once more, neither of them knew what was going to happen next year, for what would happen would not only change their relationship for ever, but it would also almost destroy one of them ...

 **KIARA**

Of course, Sian told me that she knew of the prophecy, and of course I was shocked and angry with her for not telling me, but I understood why because of the woman who raised her. Anyhoo, as it was pointed out to you before, my dear readers, Sian and Chrissie left the hospital wing completely cured three days before the end of term. Sian kept showing signs of wanting to talk about Pumbaa, but Chris and Chrissie tended to make "hushing" noises every time she mentioned his name. I was not sure whether or not I wanted to talk about Pumbaa at that point; my wishes varied with my mood. I knew one thing, though: unhappy as I felt as that moment, I would greatly miss Dragon Mort in a few days' time when I was back at my grandmothers' cottage, no matter how much I loved it there. Even though I now understood why I had to return there every summer, I did feel quite happy to be returning there. I was looking forward to returning to the peacefulness and tranquillity of the Welsh countryside to try and soothe my guilt-stricken mind and soul. Indeed, I had never looked forward to my return more.

Professor Umber left Dragon Mort the day before the end of term. It seemed he had crept out of the hospital wing during dinnertime, evidently hoping to depart unnoticed, but unfortunately for him, he met Weeves on the way, who seized her last chance to do as Tanya had instructed, and chased him gleefully from the premises, whacking him alternatively with a walking stick and a sock full of chalk. Many of my fellow students ran into the Entrance Hall to watch him running away down the path and the Heads of Houses tried only half-heartedly to restrain us. Indeed, Professor Darbus sank back into her chair at the staff table after a few feeble remonstrances and was clearly heard to express a regret that she could not run cheering after Umber herself, because Weeves had borrowed her walking stick.

Our last evening at school arrived; most people had finished packing and were already heading down to the end-of-term leaving feast, but I had not even started.

"Just do it tomorrow!" said Chrissie, who was waiting by the door of our dormitory. "Come on, I'm starving."

"I won't be long ... look, you go ahead ..."

But when the dormitory door had closed behind Chrissie, I made no effort to speed up my packing. The very last thing I wanted to do was to attend the Leaving Feast. I was worried that Crighton would make some reference to me in her speech. She was sure to mention Zira's return; she had talked to us about it last year, after all ...

I pulled some crumpled robes out of the very bottom of my trunk to make way for folded one and, as I did so, I noticed a badly wrapped package lying in the corner of it. I could not think what it was doing there. I bent down, pulled it out from underneath my trainers and examined it.

I realised what it was within seconds. My mother had given it to me just inside the front door of Pumbaa's House. _"Use it if you need me, all right?"_

I sank down on to my bed and unwrapped the package. Out fell a small, square mirror. It looked old; it was certainly dirty. I held it up to my face and saw my own reflection looking back at me.

I turned the mirror over. There on the reverse side was a scribbled note from my mother.

 _This is a two-way mirror, I've got the other one of the pair. If you need to speak to me, just say my name into it; you'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk to you in yours. Pumbaa and I used to use them when we were in separate detentions._

My heart began to race. I remembered seeing visions of my parents coming out of the Mirror of Straeh four years ago. I was going to be able to talk to Pumbaa again, right now, I knew it. I knew my mother had the other mirror, but I knew it would work -

I looked around to make sure there was nobody else there; the dormitory was quite empty. I looked back at the mirror, raised it in front of my face with trembling hands and said, loudly and clearly, "Pumbaa."

My breath misted the surface of the glass. I held the mirror even closer, excitement flooding through me, but the eyes blinking back at me through the fog were definitely my own.

I wiped the mirror clean again and said, so that every syllable rang clearly through the room:

"Pumbaa Warts!"

Nothing happened. The frustrated face looking back out of the mirror was still, definitely, my own ...

This mirror used to be Pumbaa's, and he didn't have it on him when he went through the archway, said a small voice in my head. _That's_ why it's not working ...

I remained quite still for a moment, then hurtled the mirror back into the trunk where it shattered. I had been convinced, for a whole, shining minute, that I was going to see Pumbaa, talk to him again ...

Disappointment was burning in my throat; I got up and began throwing my things pell-mell into the trunk on top of the broken mirror -

But then an idea struck me ... a better idea than a mirror ... a much bigger, more important idea ... how had I never thought of it before - why had I never asked?

I was sprinting out of the dormitory and down the spiral staircase, hitting the walls as I ran and barely noticing; I hurtled across the empty common room, through the portrait hole and off along the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lord, who called after me: "The feast is about to start, you know, you're cutting it very fine!"

But I had no intention of going to the feast ...

How could it be that the place was full of ghosts whenever you didn't need one, yet now ...

I ran down staircases and along corridors and met nobody either alive or dead. They were all, clearly, in the Great Hall. Outside the Charms classroom I came to a halt, panting and thinking disconsolately that I would have to wait until later, until after the end of the feast ...

But just as I had given up hope, I saw it - a translucent somebody drifting across the end of the corridor.

"Hey - hey, Nicola! NICOLA!"

The ghost stuck its head back out of the wall, revealing the extravagantly plumed hat and dangerously wobbling head of Madam Nicola de Mimsy-Porpington.

"Good evening," she said, withdrawing the rest of her body from the solid stone and smiling at me. "I am not the only one who is late, then? Though," she sighed, "in a rather different sense, of course ..."

"Nicola, can I ask you something?"

A most peculiar expression stole over Madam Nicola's face as she inserted a finger in the stiff ruff at her neck and tugged it a little straighter, apparently to give herself thinking time. She desisted only when her partially severed neck seemed about to give way completely.

"Er - now, Kiara?" said Nicola, looking discomfited. "Can't it wait until after the feast?"

"No - Nicola - please," I said, "I really need to talk to you. Can we go in here?"

I opened the door of the nearest classroom and Madam Nicola sighed.

"Oh, very well," she said, looking resigned. "I can't pretend I haven't been expecting it."

I was holding the door open for her, but she drifted through the wall instead.

"Expecting what?" I asked, as I closed the door.

"You to come and find me," said Nicola, now gliding over to the window and looking out at the darkening grounds. "It happens, sometimes ... when somebody has suffered a ... loss."

"Well," I said, refusing to be deflected. "You were right, I've - I've come to find you."

Nicola said nothing.

"It's - " I said, finding it more awkward than I had anticipated, "it's just - you're dead. But you're still here, aren't you?"

Nicola sighed and continued to gaze out at the grounds.

"That's right, isn't it?" I urged her. "You died, but I'm talking to you ... you can walk around Dragon Mort and everything, can't you?"

"Yes," said Madam Nicola quietly, "I walk and talk, yes."

"So, you came back, didn't you?" I said urgently. "People can come back, right? As ghosts. They don't have to disappear completely. _Well?_ " I added impatiently, when Nicola continued to say nothing.

Madam Nicola hesitated, then said, "Not everyone can come back as a ghost."

"What d'you mean?" I said quickly.

"Only ... only wizards."

"Oh," I said, and I almost laughed with relief. "Well, that's OK then, the person I'm talking about is a wizard. So he can come back, right?"

Nicola turned away from the window and looked mournfully at me.

"He won't come back."

"Who?"

"Pumbaa Warts," said Nicola.

"But you did!" I said angrily. "You came back - you're dead and you didn't disappear - "

"Wizards can leave an imprint of themselves upon the earth, to walk palely where their living selves once trod," said Nicola miserably. "But very few wizards choose that path."

"Why not?" I said. "Anyway - it doesn't matter - Pumbaa won't care if it's unusual, he'll come back, I know he will!"

And so strong was my belief, I actually turned my head to check the door, sure, for a split second, that I was going to see Pumbaa, pearly-white and transparent but beaming, walking through it towards me.

"He will not come back," repeated Nicola. "He will have ... gone on."

"What d'you mean, "gone on"?" I said quickly. "Gone where? Listen - what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn't everyone come back? Why isn't this place full of ghosts? Why - ?"

"I cannot answer," said Nicola.

"You're dead, aren't you?" I said exasperatedly. "Who can answer better than you?"

"I was afraid of death," said Nicola softly. "I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have ... well, that is neither here nor there ... in fact, _I_ am neither here nor there ..." She gave a small sad chuckle. "I know nothing of the secrets of death, Kiara, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries - "

"Don't talk to me about that place!" I said fiercely.

"I am sorry not to have been more help," said Nicola gently. "Well ... well, do excuse me ... the feast, you know ..."

And she left the room, leaving me there alone, gazing blankly at the wall through which Nicola had disappeared.

I felt almost as though I had lost Pumbaa all over again in losing the hope that I might be able to see or speak to him once more - for my mother's sake, not mine. I walked slowly and miserably up through the empty castle, wondering if I would ever feel cheerful again.

I had turned the corner towards the Fat Lord's corridor when I saw somebody up ahead fastening a note to a board on the wall. A second glance showed me it was Lincoln. There were no good hiding places nearby, he was bound to have heard my footsteps, and in any case, I could hardly muster the energy to avoid anyone at the moment.

"Hello," said Lincoln vaguely, glancing around at me as he stepped back from the notice.

"How come you're not at the feast?" I asked.

"Well, I've lost most of my possessions," said Lincoln serenely. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs."

He gestured towards the noticeboard, upon which, sure enough, he had pinned a list of all his missing books and clothes, with a plea for their return.

An odd feeling rose in me at that moment; an emotion quite different from the anger and guilt that had filled me since Pumbaa's death. It was a few moments before I realised that I was feeling sorry for Lincoln.

"How come people hide your stuff?" I asked him, frowning.

"Oh ... well ..." he shrugged. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me "Loony" Lovedream, actually."

I looked at him and the new feeling of pity intensified rather painfully.

"That's no reason for them to take your things," I said flatly. "D'you want help finding the,?"

"Oh, no," he said, smiling at me. "They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway ... why aren't _you_ at the feast?"

I shrugged. "Just didn't feel like it."

"No," said Lincoln, observing me with those oddly misty, protuberant eyes. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Love Destroyers killed was a friend of your parents, wasn't he? Kestrel told me."

I nodded curtly, but found that for some reason I did not mind Lincoln talking about Pumbaa. I had just remembered that he, too, could see Thestrals.

"Have you ..." I began. "I mean, who ... has anyone you known ever died?"

"Yes," said Lincoln simply, "my father. He was quite an extraordinary wizard, you know, but he did like to experiment and one of his spells went rather badly one day. I was nine."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Yes, it was rather horrible," said Lincoln conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Mammy. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Dad again, is it?"

"Er - isn't it?" I said uncertainly.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?"

"You mean ..."

"In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them."

We looked at each other. Lincoln was smiling slightly. I did not know what to say, or to think; Lincoln believed so many extraordinary things ... yet I had been sure I had heard voices behind the veil, too.

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you look for your stuff?" I said.

"Oh, no," said Lincoln. "No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up ... it always does in the end ... well, have a nice holiday, Kiara."

"Yeah ... yeah, you too."

He walked away from me and, as I watched him go, I found that the terrible weight in my stomach seemed to have loosened slightly.

0000

The journey home on the Dragon Mort Subs the next day was eventful in several ways. First of all, once all the subs were in the water, they were all joined together - first-year sub first, Dawson sub last - to make a giant blue caterpillar swimming smoothly through the water. Then, Malty, Crate and Gabber, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush me halfway down the sub as I made my way back from the toilet. The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of CA members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to my aid. By the time Emily Mack, Hendry Abbott, Seanan Bongo, Justine Cole, Annabelle Goldform and Teri Boots had finished using a wide variety of hexes and jinxes I had taught them, Malty, Crate and Gabber resembled nothing so much as three gigantic slugs squeezed into Dragon Mort uniforms as Emily, Justine and I hoisted them into the luggage rack and left them there to ooze.

"I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malty's father's face when she gets off the sub," said Emily, with some satisfaction, as she watched Malty squirm above her. Emily had never quite got over the indignity of Malty docking points from Badger-Stripes during her brief spell as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"Gabber's dad'll be really pleased, though," said Chrissie, who had come to see what was keeping me. "She's loads better-looking now ... anyway, Kiara, the food table's just stopped if you want anything ..."

I thanked the others and accompanied Chrissie back to our compartment, where I bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties. Sian was reading the _Daily Squabbler_ again, Chris was doing a quiz in _The Mystics_ and Nikita was stroking her _Mimbulus Mimbletonia_ , which had grown a great deal over the year and now made odd crooning noises when touched.

Chrissie and I whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Sian read out snippets from the _Squabbler_. It was now full of articles about how to repel Stingers, attempts by the Ministry to track down Love Destroyers and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lady Zira walking past their house that very morning ...

"It hasn't really started yet," sighed Sian gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. "But it won't be long now ..."

"Hey, Kiara," said Chrissie softly, nodding behind me.

I looked around. Khan was passing, accompanied by his friend Maurice Edges. I turned away from him, not wanting anything to do with him, and looked down at the chessboard just in time to see one of my pawns chase off its square by Chrissie's knight.

"What's - er - going on between you and him, anyway?" Chrissie asked quietly.

"Nothing," I said truthfully.

"I - er - heard he's going out with someone else now," said Sian tentatively.

I was surprised to find that this information did not hurt at all. Wanting to impress Khan seemed to belong to a past that was no longer connected with me; so much of what I had wanted before Pumbaa's death felt that way in those days ... the week that had elapsed since I had last seen Pumbaa seemed to have lasted much, much longer; it stretched across two universes, the one with Pumbaa in it, and the one without.

"You're well out of it, mate," said Chrissie forcefully. "I mean, he's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful."

"He's probably cheerful enough with someone else," I said, shrugging.

"Who's he with now, anyway?" Chrissie asked Sian.

"Michelle Corn," she answered.

"Michelle - but - " said Chrissie, craning around in her seat to stare at her. "But I thought Ben was going out with her!"

"Not any more," said Sian. "Ben told me that Michelle didn't like Lion-Heart beating Raven-Wings at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so he ditched her and she ran off to comfort Khan instead."

Chrissie looked highly delighted.

"Well, I always thought she was a bit of an idiot," she said, prodding her queen forwards towards my quivering castle. "Good for him. I just hope he chooses someone better next time."

"Speaking of dating," said Chris, scratching his nose absently with the end of his quill, turning _The Mystics_ upside-down and began marking his answers, "I'm officially going out with Dena Wright now - "

"But, I thought you were already going out with her?" said Sian, she and Chrissie exchanging looks.

"Well, that was just us getting to know each other better," Chris said, and a few days ago I asked her if she fancied going out with me next year and to keep in touch over the summer, so ... yeah ..."

Sian and Chrissie looked at each other again, both wearing a mixed expression of shock and confusion.

As the subs slowed down and each separated in the approach of the Sub House, I thought I had never wanted to leave it less. I even wondered fleetingly what would happen if I simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take me back to Dragon Mort. When it finally cranked to a standstill, however, I lifted down Harold's cage and prepared to drag my trunk from the sub as usual.

When Chris, Sian, Chrissie and I stood on the ramp that led down to where our friends and family were waiting, however, I found a surprise awaiting me there: a group of people standing there to greet me who I had not expected at all.

There was Crazy-Head Grumpy, looking quite as sinister with her fedora pulled low over her headscarf to cover her magical eyes as she would have done without them, her gnarled hands clutching a long staff, her body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Todd stood just behind her, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the light from the lamp hanging above her, wearing heavily patched jeans and a black T-shirt bearing the legend _The Jinxters_. Next to Todd was Meers, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group was Mr Dawson, dressed in his Muggle best, Kopa, his face covered with cloths, his amber eyes smiling and friendly, my grandmothers, who looked both happy and relieved to see me, and Tanya and Geri, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material. All of them looked rather excited about something.

Mr Dawson hugged his children tightly; after he let Sian go, she went to Kopa, and their eyes said what words could not convey, and to them all that existed was each other.

"Kiara, oh - how are you?" said Grandmother Sarafina, hugging me.

"Fine," I lied. Over her shoulder I saw Chrissie goggling at the twins' new clothes.

"What are _they_ supposed to be?" she asked, pointing at the jackets.

"Finest dragonskin, cus," said Tanya, giving her zip a little tweak. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."

"No, you are not fine," said Grandmother Sarabi's voice, drawing me back to my grandmothers. I pulled away from Grandmother Sarafina and turned to face Grandmother Sarabi, who looked at me, concerned.

"Really, Grandmother," I tried to reassure her, "I'm - "

"No, she's right, Kiara," said a strong, firm, familiar voice, shocking me into silence. "You are not fine. You are far from it."

It was only then that I noticed the whisperings and stares at two people I could not see. My grandmothers smiled at each other, and stepped aside. There, looking better dressed and groomed than I had ever seen them, were my parents, who were both smiling at me, though my mother looked as bad as I felt.

I wanted to run and jump into their arms, but seeing my mother's face brought back all the guilt I had been feeling, and I looked down at my feet, unsure of what to do. It was only when I heard my mother call my name that I looked up at her nervously.

I needn't have worried, for her expression was gentle, and the next words she said reassured me of my guilt completely.

"I don't blame you, sweetheart."

Of course I had heard Crighton tell me that my mother didn't blame me for Pumbaa's death, but it wasn't until I heard my mother say those words that I believed them. Smiling with mingled relief and happiness, I ran into her arms, and we held each other tightly. Upon feeling my mother, I noticed that her stomach felt a little harder than usual. Placing my hand on her stomach, I looked up at my mother questioningly, wondering if she was ... My mother's hand crossed my own and she nodded, happy tears spilling down her cheeks 2. I smiled even happier, and hugged her again. We were joined a few seconds later by my father. We held each other for a long time, not wanting to let each other go.

When we did finally let go of each other, I looked at my parents, grinning from ear to ear, and said, "So ... do you two have a house of your own or something?"

My parents looked at each other, uncertain of how to answer my question.

"Well, Kiara ..." began my mother.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," said my father.

"Why not?" I said, clearly missing something. "You said last time that we could live together - "

"That was before Zira came back, Kiara," said my father, smiling gently at me. "But now that she's back, she'll be out for all of us; so until she's defeated, we can't live together - at least not alone."

"What do you mean, "not alone"?" I said curiously.

My mother smiled at me and said, "Well, we've spoken to Crighton, and for two weeks we'll be staying with you and our mothers, before we move in with the Dawsons. How does that sound?"

I didn't answer, but threw my arms around my mother's neck, who laughed and hugged me back. My happiness faded slightly, however, when I opened my eyes a little while still hugging my mother, and saw my aunt, uncle and cousin standing nervously in a corner of the Sub House. I let go of Mum and asked her, "What are my aunt, uncle and cousin doing here?"

"Well, Kiara," said Meers, striding over to where my parents and I were stood, "we thought we'd invite them here so that we can have a nice little chat with them before you leave for summer."

"I dunno if that's a good idea," I said at once.

"Oh, I think it is," said Grumpy, who had limped to where we were too.

"Yes, I agree with you," said Mum darkly, glaring at the corner where my aunt, uncle and cousin were. "I have a few things I'd like to say to my sister myself."

"Ah, Kiara!" said Mr Dawson, who had finished greeting his children and had come over to me and gave me a hug. "Well - shall we do it, then?"

"Yeah, I reckon so, Matt," said Grumpy.

She and Mr Dawson led the way across the Sub House towards the Smiths, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Chris, Sian, Chrissie and the rest of the Dawsons followed behind the rest of the group.

When my aunt saw my mother, her eyes popped out of her skull and she looked like she had seen a ghost.

"N-Nala?"

"Hello, Mavuto," said Mum coolly.

"W-what are you doing here? I thought you w-were - "

"Framed. Both of us. But now the Ministry has learned the truth and they've freed us." She and my father shared a smile before my mother turned back to face my aunt.

"The Minis- ?"

"Not important," said Mum quickly. "Look, we're all here to have a few words with you about how you're treating my daughter."

"Yeah," growled Grumpy. "About how she's treated when Sarabi and Sarafina are letting you look after her."

My aunt took one look at Grumpy, and she swelled with indignation and drew herself up to her full height.

"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on when my niece is at my house - "

"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Smith," growled Grumpy.

"Anyway, that's not the point," interjected Todd, whose pink hair seemed to offend Aunt Mavuto more than all the rest put together, for she closed her eyes rather than look at her. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Kiara - "

"And make no mistake, we'll hear about it," added Meers pleasantly.

"Yes," said Mr Dawson, "even if you lock Kiara up in your attic and take away her phone, we'll know about it."

"Damn right we will," growled Grumpy. "If we get a hint that Pride-Lander's been mistreated under your roof, you'll have us to answer to."

Aunt Mavuto swelled ominously. Her sense of outrage seemed to outweigh even her fear of this bunch of oddballs (may my people forgive me for that word).

"Are you threatening me, miss?" she said, so loudly that several people stared.

"Yes, I am," said Crazy-Head, who seemed rather pleased that Aunt Mavuto had grasped this fact so quickly.

"And do I look like the kind of woman who can be intimidated?" barked Aunt Mavuto.

"Well ..." said Grumpy, pushing back her fedora hat and headscarf to reveal her sinisterly revolving four magical eyes in her forehead. Aunt Mavuto leapt backwards, clearly unnerved. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Smith."

She turned away from Aunt Mavuto to survey me, but as she stepped back, my mother stepped up to her again.

"Remember, sister, my daughter has her mother back, so if you hurt her, I'll ... hurt ... you ..." And smiling satisfactorily, she walked back over to us.

"So, Pride-Lander ..." said Grumpy, "give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along ..."

"But hopefully, we won't have to do that," said Sian nervously, as my aunt whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbours would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

"I'll take them back to their car and get a ride with them," said Grandmother Sarafina. She turned to me and said, "I'll see you at home." She then kissed me, said goodbye to the others and led my shaken aunt, uncle and cousin out the wall to where the slide was on the other side.

"Bye, then, Pride-Landers," said Grumpy, grasping my shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

"Take care, Kiara," said Meers quietly. "Keep in touch. You too, Simba. Nala."

"We'll have you round at ours soon, Kiara," said Sian, hugging me.

"We'll see you real soon, mate," said Chrissie anxiously, hugging me as Sian let me go.

"Really soon, Kiara," said Chris earnestly. "We promise." He then kissed my forehead, making Sian, Chrissie and Kestrel say, "Ooh-ooh!"

"Shut up," Chris moaned, annoyed, but that just made them giggle.

I looked at my friends, smiling gratefully at them for standing by me. I somehow could not find the words to tell them how much it meant to me, to see them all ranged there, on my side. Instead, I raised a hand in farewell, turned around and led the way out of the Sub House towards the slide that would take us to the surface, with my father, mother and Grandmother Sarabi hurrying along behind me in my wake.

And so, that concludes my mad, messed-up fifth year. But this is not the end of the story. So until the next time, this is not goodbye, this is merely -

 _Farewell!_

 **AN: 1. How I felt about this story, but that's only because it took so long for me to write, even though I know it is essential to the story.**

 **2\. This brings in the character of Kion. Please search _The Lion Guard_ if you don't know who Kion is.**

 **This is the fifth book done. I am so happy it's done at last and, fun fact, I finished writing it down on pen and paper July 30th last year - that's right, Kiara's birthday. How cool is that? Now, I won't be posting anything until next week, and when I start the sixth book, I will only be posting every Wednesday or Thursday, because I want to spend as much time on the seventh book as possible. So, I'll see you all next week. Peace out!**


End file.
